The Marriage Stone
by Josephine Darcy
Summary: SSHP. To avoid the machinations of the Ministry, Harry must marry a reluctant Severus Snape. But marriage to Snape is only the beginning of Harry's problems. Voldemort has returned, and before too long Harry's marriage may determine the world's fate.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

Warnings: This story is Slash of the HP/SS variety (there will also be some SB/RL and HG/RW as a side plot). My rating, however, is more due to violence than any explicit sexual content. I tend to focus more on 'romance' rather than anything graphically sexual. If you do not like Slash, don't read this.

Author's Note: Cannon through Book 4 only. There is a longer note at the end of this chapter with more details about this subject.

The Marriage Stone

Harry did his best to ignore the stares of the other students as he searched for an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Train. He was used to people staring and whispering behind his back, but this year it seemed worse than normal. Even his fellow Gryffindors grew silent when they saw him; they smiled at him as he passed, and then began whispering about him the moment they assumed he was out of hearing range.

Finding an empty compartment, he hid inside it, thinking it ironic that he could go from one extreme to the next just by getting on a train. The Dursleys pretended he didn't exist; the Wizarding World couldn't get enough of him.

He could only hope that this year would be uneventful. Then maybe he'd be left in peace as people forgot about the events of last year. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to become the target of Voldemort and his Death Eaters -– he didn't ask for it after all. It just seemed to work out that way. And last year -- his fifth -- had proven more eventful than the previous four years combined.

Oh, he'd managed the usual fifteen-year-old antics -- played Quidditch brilliantly, learned new subjects, passed and failed tests, got detention, won and lost points for Gryffindor, fought and bonded with his closest friends. But in between the chaos of his typical school days he also managed to face down Death Eaters and their Dark Lord not once but three times in the course of the year. The last confrontation, just before the school term ended for the summer, proved the proverbial bullet the entire Wizarding World dodged.

Voldemort, grown great and terrible in power, had managed to get his hands on a legendary artifact –- the Eye of Odin, a crystal that could destroy or subjugate any Wizard who dared stand against its wielder. Naturally he attacked Hogwarts with it, intent on destroying both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. He killed the first wave of Aurors that moved against him and his followers. They fell with barely a fight, no match for the restored Dark Lord and his new weapon. Truthfully no one was a match, not even Dumbledore; no one was strong enough to stand against Voldemort. The strongest in the Wizarding World gathered in defense of the ancient castle and the children trapped inside. They stood without hope, even the most optimistic of them realizing finally that putting all their faith in the abilities of one young boy was ridiculous.

Naturally, Harry Potter rose to the occasion and proved them all wrong. Granted he lacked the strength or the power to stand against Voldemort; but that didn't stop him from putting on his invisibility cloak, climbing on his Firebolt, and facing down the Dark Lord as if competing in a Quidditch match. No magic, no spells, no wands drawn to duel -- Harry Potter just raced into the midst of the army of Death Eaters on his broom and stole the Eye of Odin right out of Voldemort's hand.

The backlash of energy released from the theft killed the Death Eaters closest to Voldemort, drained the Dark Lord of all his reserved power, and landed Harry Potter in the hospital wing for three weeks. Voldemort fled, weakened but not dead. The Death Eaters scattered, went back into hiding, and Harry Potter was clapped on the back by a grateful world, and sent home to Privet Drive for the summer. He spent the summer months suffering nightmares locked up in a tiny room in his uncle's house while his face was splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet incessantly.

Now he rode the train back to Hogwarts, enduring the whispers and stares as best he could. Eventually Ron and Hermione found him and kept him company. His two friends talked about their summers, entertained him with stories about the fun they'd had (they knew he had not been so lucky staying with the Dursleys), and generally did their best to keep his mind off the circus that was his life.

It was only as the train was nearing Hogwarts that Hermione hinted at a bizarre political situation that had risen over the summer -– that Harry, the Hero of the Wizarding World, had become one of the hottest political commodities in a fierce re-election campaign for the office of Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge was up for re-election and had no less than fifteen opponents running against him. Gaining the favor of Harry Potter would insure the election of whatever Wizard or Witch could win it. But as Harry didn't know any of the other candidates, and had no interest in supporting Cornelius Fudge, he dismissed Hermione's warnings as unimportant. Little did Harry know that the desire for re-election was about to turn his world upside down once again.

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Harry sat between Ron and Neville at the Gryffindor table while Dumbledore gave his opening-year speech, reminding the students to stay out of the Dark Forest and reminding them that residual magic from the Battle (it hadn't been given a name yet Seamus pointed out -– though he was pushing for the Battle of Hogwarts) was still lingering around the Quidditch pitch, and until it had been completely cleaned up all students were to watch their wand usage in the area. Clean up duty would fall to the seventh years as part of their practicals on the Misuse of Wild Magic.

"Don't envy them that," Dean told his fellow sixth years. "I imagine they'll still be finding bits and pieces of Death Eaters out there."

Harry felt himself pale at Dean's words, unable to join in the laugher his words engendered in the other boys. He'd only wanted to save those inside the castle -- when he'd stolen the Eye of Odin from Voldemort he hadn't intended to be responsible for so many deaths.

"Dean!" Hermione's voice cut through the laughter, and she glared at the others. "I thought we all agreed not to mention certain subjects."

Judging by the guilty looks the others were suddenly throwing at Harry, he could imagine just exactly what those subjects were. He wondered when Hermione had found time to discuss this with the others, though he was grateful for the effort. The three times he had faced down Voldemort last year his friends and classmates had all been safely locked away in Gryffindor tower. To them the stories were distant and fascinating -- to Harry they were living nightmares that he had to reliving night after night. Summer had been more hellish than usual. Unable to control his dreams he'd woken his family up most nights with his screams of terror. And while Uncle Vernon had never really beaten him beyond slaps and the occasional backhand across the back of the head, Harry had been punished -- going without meals, earning extra chores, spending all the rest of his time locked up like a prisoner to be kept away from 'normal' people.

"Sorry, Harry," Dean apologized.

"That's all right," Harry assured them all, wanting to appear as normal as possible. "Though it does make me wonder what it means for the start of the Quidditch season this year."

"Blast!" Seamus cursed in agreement. "That's right! Do you suppose this means we can't use brooms around the pitch either?"

"Dumbledore didn't say anything about brooms," Ron pointed out. "Just said to watch the use of wands."

"Maybe that means the Slytherins won't be able to cheat this year?" Neville suggested.

They all threw dark glares across the room at the Slytherin table. Malfoy like usual was holding court with his cohorts around him. Once again Lucius Malfoy had gone unpunished for his Death Eater activities. The fact that he had not been present at the final battle had apparently proven his innocence to enough of the higher-ups that they had for once ignored Harry's testimony that Malfoy was one of Voldemort's most trusted servants.

Both Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Crabbe had been found dead on the field. Their wives however had pleaded innocent. Consequently both their sons were still firmly ensconced in their usual places beside Draco Malfoy, going unnoticed by the Ministry who had more than enough to contend with. If their fathers' allegiance to the Dark Lord had harmed their standing in Slytherin house any, it was not apparent to Harry or the rest of Gryffindor. How Harry was going to deal with classmates who believed him responsible for the deaths of their fathers he didn't know.

"I suppose they'll be more insufferable than ever," Dean grumbled. "Even with half of their parents suspected of being dark wizards, they still act like they own the world."

"Just goes to show what money and a family name will buy you," Seamus agreed.

"Doesn't explain Snape," Ron grumbled, and Harry threw him a warning frown. They all knew Snape had been spying for Dumbledore, and last year he, Ron and Hermione had agreed to speak about him as little as possible for fear of saying something they weren't supposed to.

"Don't let his disposition fool you," Seamus told them all in a quiet whisper. "Snape's family is one of the oldest and more powerful in the Wizarding World -- and I hear they're loaded."

"Snape has a family?" Ron stared at him in shock.

"Well, I don't know much about that," Seamus admitted. "Heard he's got a sister and a couple of brothers, though I don't know much about them. But my uncle works for the Ministry's revenue board, and mentioned the funds generated by some of the older family estates -- he mentioned a Snape Manor."

"That doesn't mean it is Snape's," Hermione pointed out. "If he's got siblings, it's just as likely any family inheritance went to them."

"Still, wouldn't that just figure," Dean grumbled. "Bastard doesn't need to work, but still he's here making our lives a living hell just because he enjoys tormenting students."

"Least he doesn't hate you the way he does me," Neville sighed. "I'm just grateful I don't have to take any more potions classes from him." Neville as expected had done very poorly on his potions OWLs, and consequently was not enrolled in advanced potions.

"I can't believe Harry and I both made it into advanced potions," Ron muttered. "I can't believe we actually want to continue taking classes from Snape."

"You know you can't be an Auror without his class," Hermione reminded him.

"I'm sure if he had been the one grading our OWLs we wouldn't have gotten any," Harry sighed. "He's going to do his best to make us regret passing this year."

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione assured him. "We'll all work together and we'll be fine. We'll all get through potions even if it kills us!"

"That's what we're afraid of," Ron, Dean, Seamus and Harry said in unison. They all burst into laughter, only to be distracted a moment later as the feast arrived on their table. Starving, Harry dug in, having one of the first decent meals he'd had all summer long.

They were just getting ready to head back to the tower when Professor McGonagall asked Harry, Ron and Hermione to accompany her. Bewildered, they bid good night to their year mates and followed their head of house out of the great hall, wondering what they could have possible have done in the few short hours they'd been on school grounds to have drawn the attention of the staff so soon.

They were led to a private room near the main staff lounge where to their surprise they found Arthur and Molly Weasley waiting for them. While Ron went to greet his parents, Harry noticed Dumbledore, Snape and Hooch joining them. To his surprise Percy Weasley was there as well. The former Head Boy of Hogwarts threw Harry a weak smile, said something to his father, and then hurried back out of the room again. Harry and Hermione exchanged bewildered looks, both shrugging at each other.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him. "Come in, my boy. Come in. We seem to have a bit of a problem I'm afraid."

Harry felt his heart fluttering his chest. When Dumbledore said there was a problem, it usually meant something bad. "Is it. . ." his voice broke and he was ashamed to see that Snape was glaring at him. "Is it Voldemort?"

His use of the Dark Lord's name had the typical response. Everyone except Dumbledore and Snape flinched at the sound.

Dumbledore frowned, something Harry didn't find reassuring. "Well, not directly," he informed Harry. "Though he does have some bearing on the situation. We've had word that he's been seen again gathering his forces. Seems he's recovered from his little disaster last spring."

Harry felt his knees growing weak and he was thankful to discover a chair directly behind him as he sat down without thinking. "You said not directly, sir?" he asked shakily. Voldemort was gathering his forces, but that wasn't the problem Dumbledore was currently frowning over. This was not going to be good. He could tell just by the worried looks on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces.

"I'm afraid our current problem has to do with Minister Fudge," Dumbledore explained.

Harry glanced briefly at the others in the room. For the most part he saw looks of disgust on the faces of the adults in the room. "Something's happened to Minister Fudge?"

"I wish," Molly Weasley muttered under her breath. Arthur nodded in agreement.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, pausing to stroke his long silver beard. "I suppose you haven't been reading the papers this summer?"

"No, sir," Harry admitted. "My uncle gets the Times but he'd take a belt to me if I touched it."

Surprisingly that comment got as many winces as the mention of Voldemort's name did, followed by a baffling exchange of looks amongst the adults.

"I actually meant Wizarding papers, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "But never mind that. The thing is Harry, Cornelius Fudge is up for re-election, and he has more competition than he's ever had before. All of the candidates are clamoring for favor among the Wizarding World. And it seems you're the favored ticked to the office."

"I don't understand, sir," Harry frowned, wishing now he had paid more attention to Herminie's explanation on the train. How could he have anything to do with an election?

"It's a popularity contest, Harry," Hermione explained. "Which ever candidate can get you to endorse them is bound to win as public opinion pretty much favors anything to do with you."

Surprised, Harry blinked in confusion. "But I don't even know any of the other candidates. I haven't favored any of them. I haven't even spoken to any of them. How could I be involved in this election?"

"Doesn't matter, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "It's more a matter of what news gets printed, and you know the Daily Prophet's fondness for making up stories. It's rather amazing how many of these candidates have admitted to having private conversations with you about battle tactics and defensive spells. But that's the least of our worries. Minister Fudge has decided to take this whole situation one step farther and get you on his side once and for all."

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore frowned and glanced over at Arthur Weasley. Arthur sighed and sat down beside Harry. "Percy intercepted a memo at the Ministry. He's the one who warned me about what was going on. It seems Minister Fudge has decided to declare your uncle an unfit guardian and adopt you himself."

Harry leaped to his feet in shock. "Adopt me!" He'd spent his childhood unwanted, and now suddenly the bloody Minister of Magic wanted to adopt him.

"Yes, Harry," Arthur nodded. "And unfortunately, considering who he is, there are very few legal impediments in his way. He's apparently already had all the paperwork finished. We only just discovered this ourselves. Percy said that assuming he can prove his claims against your uncle, the adoption should be legal tonight or tomorrow morning."

"But this is ridiculous!" Harry protested, his words echoed closely by Ron and Hermione both.

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "It's only ridiculous if the claims against your uncle are unfounded."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily.

"What he's trying to ask Harry is whether or not Minister Fudge has any legal right to claim your uncle unfit," Molly explained gently. "We all know that the Dursleys are not nice to you, but have they ever done anything that could be construed as abuse by a court of law?"

Harry paled. "Like what?"

"Well, you just said something about your uncle taking a belt to you," Molly pointed out. "Would he really take a belt to you?"

Harry frowned, suddenly unwilling to say anything more. He had no loyalty to his uncle, but he didn't want to say anything that might get him adopted by Minister Fudge.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter," Snape growled. "Just answer the question so they know what to prepare for. You'll be forced to take Veritaserum by the Ministry if this goes to court."

Harry stared at Snape in shock.

"Severus!" Molly Weasley glared at the Potion Master. "Don't upset the boy! Now, then Harry, dear, you need to tell us what you can. Has there been any abuse?"

Harry squirmed, hating the attention he was being given, particularly by Ron and Hermione. "I'm not certain what you might mean?" he admitted.

"Potter!" Snape growled again. "Don't be obtuse. Has your uncle abused you? Has he beaten you, starved you, locked you up, hurt your feelings or stolen your bloody teddy bear?!"

All the adults in the room were glaring at Snape now, and Harry grew pale under his dark gaze. But when no other words were forth coming, from anyone, Harry realized that despite the delivery, everyone expected him to answer Snape's questions. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

His words seemed to surprise Snape, who blinked in shock and actually took a step back as if not expecting that answer.

Dumbledore, looking suddenly every one of his years, sat down on one of the remaining armchairs. "Would you care to elaborate, Harry?" the Headmaster asked softly. Harry blinked at the man in surprise, bewildered by his obvious distress.

"I'm sorry, sir," he admitted. "You know all this already."

Dumbledore's normally twinkling eyes were sad. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well, my letter to Hogwarts for one thing, sir," he explained. "You sent it to me with my address on it: Harry Potter Cupboard Under the Stairs."

Harry had seen Dumbledore face down Death Eaters without flinching, but this actually made the old man pale. "Do you mean to tell me you were kept in a cupboard?"

Harry nodded. "For ten years," he admitted. "They moved me out after the letter came, because they realized you must have known."

"Harry, the Hogwarts letters are magically addressed," Professor McGonagall informed him. "None of us would have ever seen the address written on it."

"And the rest of it, Harry?" Molly Weasley asked softly; Harry was dismayed to see that her eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Well, I never actually had a teddy bear," he admitted, throwing a glare at Snape who was looking surprisingly subdued. "My uncle hit me sometimes," he admitted. "But not that often. Usually when he wanted to punish me he just locked me up and wouldn't feed me. I figured you knew though -- that's why you send me all that food for my birthday."

Molly's eyes just grew brighter and Harry was growing seriously concerned that she might cry. "When Ron said you were starving, I just assumed you were starving the same way all teenage boys are always starving -- no more than six or seven square meals a day."

Six or seven square meals a day? Harry's eyes widened. That would certainly explain why Ron and his brothers were so tall.

"How long would he starve you, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry shrugged. "Well, usually only two or three days, sometimes if he was really angry four or five days at a time. Not enough to make me really sick or anything." To his dismay he realized his words didn't quite have the reassuring affect he was going for. "It's not like he was trying to kill me or anything!" he assured them all quickly. Not like Voldemort, he though silently to himself. Next to the things Voldemort had put him through, his uncle was nothing.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Dumbledore said quietly. "We didn't know. If we'd known, if I'd known, I never would have left you there."

Harry frowned. "But you sent me there to protect me, sir," he reminded the Headmaster. "From Voldemort. Because he couldn't get me there." The last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to feel bad for his uncle's failings. He understood the necessity, and was surprised that everyone else seemed to have forgotten it.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "But there are always alternatives. I would have found another solution."

Uncertain how to respond to that, Harry simply fell silent, uncomfortable with the attention.

"Well, that's it, then," Arthur sighed. "Fudge's claim is legal."

"So it would seem," Dumbledore agreed.

"But we can't let Fudge adopt Harry," Ron protested.

"No, we can't," Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm sorry," Hermione broke in, her brow wrinkled in concentration. "I don't really see what the problem is. I mean granted it would be awful for Harry to be adopted by Fudge. But would it really make that much of a difference? Fudge is just going to say what ever he wants to the papers anyway -- Harry's willingness won't make any difference as far as any endorsement goes with or without the adoption. And it's not like Harry is going to have to live with Minister Fudge. Harry is in school for most of the year, and the Minister is much to busy during the summer months to have any time for Harry."

"I'm afraid that's not true, Hermione," Dumbledore explained. "That's the problem you see. Fudge has decided to remove Harry from school."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "But he can't! How would he ever explain that to the papers? Removing the Boy Who Lived from school before he even took his NEWTs."

"Private tutors," Arthur explained. "He intends to have Harry tutored by his private staff. That way he can get Harry out from under the influence of Headmaster Dumbledore, something he'd love to do."

Dumbledore's earlier statements suddenly made more sense to Harry. He paled, his shakes coming back unexpectedly. "And if he takes me out of Hogwarts that means there will be nothing to protect me from Voldemort."

Dumbledore simply nodded in silent agreement.

"But surely even Fudge wouldn't be that stupid!" Ron protested, then blushed under the stares the others in the room threw him. "Okay," he conceded. "I guess he would be."

Part of the reason they'd lost so many Aurors the previous year was because Fudge had failed to acknowledge Voldemort's return before it was nearly to late. When he finally had no choice, he'd already been made to look the fool by Dumbledore in the eyes of the public.

"He'd risk my life to further his political career?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid so," Arthur agreed.

"And there's nothing I can do to stop it?"

"That's what we need to figure out," Arthur explained.

"But what about Sirius?" Harry protested. "My parents appointed him my legal guardian. Surely his claim must take precedence over Fudge's?"

Arthur shook his head. "Fudge has nullified his claim. At the moment Sirius Black is still a convicted killer and as such is unfit as your godfather."

"Dad!" Ron exclaimed with a wild grin. "Why don't we adopt Harry!"

Arthur and Molly both smiled at that. "We already thought of that, Ron," Molly admitted. She smiled sadly at Harry. "Believe me Harry we would take you gladly. But there is no way we can out-maneuver the Minister. He's already had all the paperwork done. It would take us at least three months to process such a claim. If we'd known about this earlier, we could have done something. But as it is, Fudge's claim will be legal in a few hours if it's not already."

"Then there's nothing we can do?" Harry asked. "We can't stop the adoption." He looked at Dumbledore, who looked lost in thought as if trying to formulate some plan. "I'll be a sitting duck if Fudge gets his hands on me. If Voldemort himself doesn't get me, Fudge's close personal friend Lucius Malfoy will. I have no choice. I'll have to run."

"You'll be a sitting duck if you run," Snape informed him. "You leave a magical signature behind that a child could follow. Voldemort will find you in a matter of days."

Harry glared at the Potions Master. "Then what am I supposed to do? I can't run, I can't fight! What am I supposed to do?"

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "I mean Harry hardly needs another legal guardian! Doesn't seem fair. He's old enough to get married, but he's not old enough to live on his own!"

Several heads shot up at that, sharp gazes staring at Hermione in amazement. "What?" she said in surprise taking a step back at the scrutiny.

"Hermione Granger, you are brilliant!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

She frowned. "What did I say?"

"Marriage!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "You are absolutely right, Harry is old enough to get married."

"And if he's married, he's automatically considered a legal adult and no longer needs a guardian. Fudge's adoption will be void," Arthur nodded in agreement. "It's a brilliant solution."

"What is?" Harry protested. Surely they weren't suggested what he though they were suggesting.

"Marriage, my boy!" Dumbledore explained, the happy twinkle back in his blue eyes. "We've simply got to get you married before Fudge arrives with the adoption papers. There won't be a thing he can do about it."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Marriage! But I'm only sixteen!"

"Legal age for marriage in the Wizarding World is fifteen, Harry," Arthur explained. "Used to be thirteen but they changed the age requirements back in 1504."

1504? Stunned Harry shook his head in denial. Why didn't people teach him these things in school! "But. . . but. . . .marriage? Whom am I supposed to marry?"

Ron and Hermione were staring at him in alarm. Harry almost missed the look of panic Ron threw toward Hermione, the way his face flushed and then paled as if realizing the most obvious match for his friend. It was enough to momentarily distract Harry -- the realization that his friend had actually admitted, at least to himself, his feelings for the brilliant Miss Granger. He also noticed that Ron bit his lip to keep from saying anything, and he understood in a strange leap of logic that Ron would never say anything if he thought it would be what was best for Harry.

"Well, we had best find someone quickly," Dumbledore decided, momentarily glancing himself at Hermione. Harry glared at him, silently willing him to look somewhere else. He'd marry Mrs. Norris before he did that to his two best friends in the world.

"Do you have a girlfriend, dear?" Molly asked, failing to notice the panic her own son was experience. She smiled hopefully over at Hermione.

"No!" Harry insisted. "I don't."

"Well, what about. . ." Molly began, still looking at Hermione.

"No!" Harry cut her off before she could speak the words out loud. "No offence Hermione," he said quickly. "But that would be like marrying my sister!"

"No offence taken," Hermione assured him, looking quite relieved. Ron still said nothing, but Harry saw the look of relief in his eyes. It was followed swiftly by a look of shame, and Harry frowned. This sucked! He wondered if he could just curse Fudge with one of the Unforgivables instead?

"The Marriage Stone!" Dumbledore exclaimed suddenly. They all turned to look at him.

"Do you still have that old thing?" Madam Hooch asked in wonder.

"It's in my office," Dumbledore told her. "Would you get it for me?"

She nodded and excused herself from the room.

"Are you sure you should use that, Albus?" McGonagall asked worriedly. "It's caused no end of difficulties in the past."

"Only when the people in question have already been married. But Harry isn't married yet."

"The Marriage Stone," Hermione mused. "I've heard of that. I read about it."

Of course she had, Harry thought. "What is it?"

"It's a very old artifact, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "It shows you your perfect match for a bond mate."

"Perfect match?" Harry said warily. "That doesn't sound bad? What's the catch?" He'd learned the hard way that there was always a catch.

"Depends on who's looking into it, Harry," Hermione told him. "The most famous match the Marriage Stone apparently ever revealed was for Queen Guinevere. She looked into it to see her perfect match -- unfortunately she was married to King Arthur at the time and the stone showed her that her perfect match was in fact Sir Lancelot. And we all know how well that story ends."

"How's this going to help Harry?" Ron frowned. "I mean if he's got to get married between now and tomorrow morning. What if it shows Harry someone he doesn't know? I mean his perfect match could be living on the other side of the world. Or maybe his perfect match is someone who doesn't like him. Or someone who's too young for him right now. Or someone who is already married. There's a reason no one uses that stone any more."

"Well then we'll have to think of something else," Dumbledore explained. "We'll have to find someone else to fill in if that's the case. But we should at least try to make Harry a good match. He deserves every chance at happiness we can give him."

"Happiness?" Harry protested, his stomach turning at the very thought. "Come on. We're doing this to keep me alive. Nothing more. The most we can hope for is that we can find someone in this castle who'd be willing to go through with this farce to keep me alive."

He couldn't help thinking that somehow Cho Chang's name was going to come up in a matter of moments. He'd had a crush on her fourth year and both Ron and Hermione knew it. Trouble was Cedric Diggory's death had put a stake in the heart of that little romance. Guilt had overwhelmed him every time he looked at her after that. Much as he still liked Cho he imagined it would be easier for him to marry Pansy Parkinson than it would to marry Cho.

Madam Hooch returned a moment later carrying a large blue crystal ball in one hand. They all looked at her expectantly. "Well?" Dumbledore asked her.

"Oh, you mean you want me. . ." She shrugged and looked into the crystal. "Harry Potter!" she said clearly and distinctly to the stone. They all stared at it expectantly, but nothing happened as far as Harry could see. The blue crystal continued to just look like an ordinary blue crystal. Madam Hooch however paled suddenly, covering the crystal with her other hand with a gasp of shock. They all stared at her. "I don't think it's working," she exclaimed. "I think it's broken."

"Oh, good grief!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Give it here!" She held her hand out for it. Hooch handed it over to her without question.

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall said to the stone. Again Harry saw absolutely nothing happen. Everyone else was watching with undisguised curiosity. Like Hooch, McGonagall paled and then flushed. She turned toward Dumbledore holding the crystal out to him. "Perhaps it would be best if you tried, Albus."

"Who did you see?" Ron and Harry asked in unison.

McGonagall just shook her head. "Let the Headmaster have a go at it."

Frowning in curiosity, Dumbledore took the crystal, held it out in one wrinkled hand and said, "Harry Potter!" clearly to it. Unlike Hooch and McGonagall, Dumbledore smiled, his eyes taking on a most wicked twinkle. Harry felt himself growing nervous. Sometimes Dumbledore's twinkles were worse than his frowns. "Oh, excellent match indeed!" the Headmaster exclaimed in delight. He turned toward Snape. "Severus. . ."

"Bloody hell!" Snape hissed. "You three are perfectly competent to look into a bloody crystal and tell us who you see. You don't need me looking as well!"

Dumbledore, still smiling, blinked at him. "Of course not, Severus. I didn't mean for you to look. You ARE the match it showed us."

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Author's Note:

This story started out as a simple idea -- a forced, arranged marriage between Harry and Snape. I wanted to explore the idea of a slow developing relationship that didn't end up with a 16-year-old boy simply jumping into a sexual relationship with a grown man. And I wanted to play around with the concept of Victorian ideas in the Wizarding World -- after all if socially the Wizarding World is many years (or even centuries) behind the Muggle World, then arranged marriages would probably be normal. They were once considered normal in our world as well -- and are still practiced in many parts of the world today.

But as often happens, the story quickly took on a life of its own and became something else -- something far more epic than I ever imagined.

I started this story long before Book 5 came out. It was supposed to be a short story and should have been finished before Book 5 came out -- certainly should have been finished before Book 6 came out. And now, we're facing the appearance of Book 7 and it's still not done -- I figured I better get at least part of it out to the world before Rowlings kills off all the main characters and depresses me to the point where I don't want to write any more.

I thought about making the story Book 5 compliant, but the truth of the matter is, I didn't like Book 5. And ultimately Sirius Black is important to this plot line so this book will only ever be canon up through Book 4. I may ultimately introduce some characters from Book 5 or Book 6 (maybe Shacklebolt or Tonks) and I mention the Order in passing, but for the most part I'm ignoring everything beyond Book 4 entirely.

The three most noticeable differences (beyond the events themselves) are that Sirius is alive, Snape's family history is dramatically different, and Voldemort works a bit harder for the title of Dark Lord. In this story you will eventually learn that Voldemort is far more dangerous than he ever seems to be in Book 5 and Book 6 (he's not going to spend a year trying to hear a stupid prophecy that made everyone else say "Duh!" when they finally learned what the 'big surprise' was at the end of the story.) I think to truly have the title of Dark Lord you need to aim a bit higher on the terror and destruction meter. My Dark Lord will be aiming about as high as it goes -- Harry will have his work cut out for him. Consequently the 'slow developing relationship' between Harry and Snape that this story was supposed to be about, will have some twists and turns I didn't foresee. I hope you enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2 With This Ring

Chapter 2 - With This Ring

Harry felt the blood drain from his face even as he saw Snape's eyes widening in utter shock. "What?" the Potion Master asked, looking from Dumbledore to McGonagall to Hooch. To Harry's horror McGonagall and Hooch both gave him a sickly nodded of confirmation.

"Snape!" Ron exclaimed in dismay.

"But that's impossible!" Harry protested, looking at them as if they'd lost their minds. Molly and Arthur didn't look particularly happy, but they didn't look nearly as upset as Harry though they should have.

Dumbledore frowned at Harry. "Why would it be impossible? I realize you and Professor Snape don't get along very well, but that's often the case in these situations. You'll get past that eventually. It's an excellent match. You are both relatively equal in power and ability -- or will be once you've finished your schooling Harry. And until you do, Severus is certainly capable of protecting you from any threat. And you have more in common than you realize, and--"

"But he's a man!" Harry interrupted, wondering if the Headmaster had completely lost his mind.

Dumbledore looked a bit baffled by his comment. Hermione leaned toward Harry. "That's a Muggle prejudice, Harry," she whispered to him. "It doesn't really translate in the Wizarding World -- Wizarding bond marriages are legal between two consenting adults of any gender or species."

"Really?' Harry turned to stare at her in surprise. He'd never really thought about it on a personal level, had no deep prejudice himself against homosexuality though he couldn't recall any situation where he could have formed an opinion one way or another. But that the Wizarding World had no prejudice against. . ."Species!" he exclaimed suddenly realizing what else she had implied in that statement.

"Didn't you ever wonder where centaurs came from?" she asked with a shrug. "Under those circumstances, very few matches shock the Wizarding World."

"I am not marrying Potter!" Snape announced before Harry could reply further.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore argued. "It's a good match. And it solves all sorts of problems, the first being that the odds of finding someone else suitable between now and tomorrow morning is highly unlikely."

"Good match!" Snape growled. "Apart from the fact that we can't stand each other, have you forgotten my OTHER job description?"

Harry almost jumped up and echoed Snape's words right there. That was absolutely right! Snape couldn't marry Harry and be a spy at the same time. It would be an absolute proclamation of his loyalties if he did so. He managed, however, to restrain himself, certain that Snape would not welcome his help in any way.

"Granted you can't possibly maintain your fiction as a loyal Death Eater," Dumbledore agreed amiably. "But I've been meaning to talk to you about that any way Severus. It's grown far too dangerous. If Voldemort hadn't sent you and Lucius away on that little wild goose chase I dreamed up last spring, you'd would have been killed along with the others in the battle."

Harry's eyes widened at that. He hadn't even thought of wondering how it was that Snape had managed to both remain a believable spy and keep himself out of the battle. He shivered suddenly at the realization that along with the loyal Death Eaters he might very well have been responsible for the death of Professor Snape last spring. And while he didn't like Snape, he had to admit he admired the man's courage and bravery, not to mention his unswerving loyalty to Dumbledore despite the hellish life he must live as a spy.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "It's time to pull you in from the field, Severus. We need you here, with us. And this way we'll be certain of having a loyal member of the Order at Harry's side to protect him."

"Albus!" Snape protested in horrified shock.

Dumbledore rose suddenly, taking hold of Snape's arm and leading him off to the side of the room to speak with him quietly. Ron and Hermione took the opportunity to speak with Harry in quite whispers.

"This is insane," Ron protested. "They can't be seriously considering marrying you to that greasy git!"

Somewhat panic stricken, Harry looked up at them in desperation. What in hell was he going to do? It seemed a matter of who got to kill him first -- if he didn't marry Snape Voldemort would kill him. If he did marry him, Snape would probably kill him himself. Not to mention what the other Gryffindors and Slytherin would do. He'd never really thought seriously about marriage, but he always assumed that if he survived to adulthood, he would fall in love like his parents had, get married, raise a family. Rather liked the idea actually. But to spend the rest of his life trapped in the company of Severus Snape, most hated teacher in Hogwarts. It would be like one endless potions class for the rest of his life.

"Harry, we can't allow this," Hermione agreed, looking somewhat resignedly over at Ron.

Ron, looking pale and sick, nodded in agreement. "Right you are," he said firmly. "We're your best friends, Harry. Either one of us. . ." his voice broke momentarily and he cleared it quickly. "Either one of us will marry you before we let you marry, Snape."

It took a moment for Harry to understand what his friend was saying, mostly because he still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of learning that the Wizarding World didn't apparently have any prejudice at all against two men marrying each other. It sunk in finally that both his friends were willing to marry him, were willing to sacrifice their own possibility for future happiness to protect him. And while he desperately wanted an out -- someway to avoid a marriage to Snape, he knew in his heart that he could never do that to his friends.

Truth was, no matter how he looked at it, his life and his happiness had never been his own. From the moment Voldemort had killed his family and turned him into the Boy Who Lived, his life had been completely out of his control. He'd always been denied choices -- first with the Dursleys and then with the Wizarding World and the belief that he was going to save them. Actually doing just that, saving them last spring had only reinforced that belief. And no matter what else he did in life, what else he might hope or dream, Voldemort was never going to let him live a normal existence. Like as not Voldemort wasn't going to let him live period. At least he could ensure that his friends still had a chance at a normal life.

"You are my best friends," he told Ron and Hermione quietly. "And if I'm to face what ever is to come with Voldemort, I need my best friends beside me -- as my best friends. I can't marry either of you. It would ruin everything between us."

"Harry," Hermione protested. "We would never allow it to ruin anything."

"She's right, mate," Ron agreed. "We'll always be your best friends. No matter what happens."

Seemed he needed something more persuasive. He caught both of their hands. "You two are the only things in my life that are normal and sane," he told them fiercely. "I can't lose that. And marrying one of you would change that. I can't."

They both seemed to understand and he saw the looks of mingled relief and guilt in their eyes. "But Snape," Ron protested one last time. "What about. . .Ginny? I'm sure she'd. . ."

"She won't be fifteen for another month yet," Hermione reminded him. "It will be too late by then."

"Besides," Harry admitted. "Marrying Ginny would be like marrying my LITTLE SISTER. I couldn't do that either." He was well aware of the fact that Ginny had a crush on him. Adding the whole crush thing into an arranged marriage would be a recipe for disaster as far as he was concern. At least one thing was certain -- there would never exist any misunderstandings like that between him and Snape. He glanced across the room at Snape who was still locked in a heated argument with the Headmaster. Snape looked angrier than he'd ever seen him and he sighed in despair.

Molly and Arthur, having moved aside to allow the three of them to speak quietly together, rejoined them. "Everything okay, Harry dear?" Molly asked in concern.

"Mom, this is just awful!" Ron protested. "We can't allow Harry to marry Snape."

Molly frowned thoughtfully. "I know you don't like Professor Snape," Molly agreed. "But the Headmaster is right when he says this solves a lot of problems. Severus Snape comes from a very respected, very old and wealthy Wizarding family. Truth is if we did find some nice sweet young girl for Harry to marry, odds are Minister Fudge would find a way to declare the marriage null and proceed with the adoption anyway. There are very few families with standing enough to get away with something like this. I thought maybe Bill or Charlie perhaps, but we just don't have the money or standing to face down Fudge. But he absolutely will not attempt to cross Severus. He'd know he'd lose that battle."

"You make it sound like you actually think that Snape will agree to this?" Ron exclaimed. "Or that if he did, he'd go out of his way to protect Harry. You don't know him like we do."

"I'm certain Severus will agree to it," Arthur corrected. "Albus Dumbledore is nothing if not persuasive. And yes, Severus will protect Harry. If he marries Harry he'd be honor-bound to protect him."

"If he doesn't kill him first," Ron protested.

"He's never tried to kill me," Harry admitted quietly to his friend. He couldn't believe he was actually defending Snape, but the man had risked his own life several times to save Harry. And God knew he risked his life time and time again for the Order of the Phoenix to get information to all of them about Voldemort's activities.

"He's actually quite a catch," Molly informed all of them. "Money alone."

"Then it's true, he does have money?" Hermione asked.

"Oh heavens, dear," Molly laughed. "Simply being a Potion Master would make him rich enough -- there isn't a more lucrative job in all the Wizarding World than that. But he also comes from old money."

"But he's too old for Harry," Ron argued further.

Both Molly and Arthur looked surprised by that comment. "He's only twenty years older than Harry," Arthur pointed out as if that seemed the most common thing in the world. Harry was beginning to suspect that once again there was something else about Wizarding society he hadn't learned. That suspicion was only confirmed when Ron sighed and nodded in agreement.

Once again Muggle-born Hermione came to his rescue. "Think about how long wizards live," she whispered quietly to him. "Double if not triple the life expectancy of a Muggle. An age difference would have to be closer to sixty or eighty years before anyone would notice it."

He nodded in sudden comprehension. "I guess none of this matters anyway," Harry sighed. "Doesn't really matter if I marry Snape, Filch or McGonagall. I either have to get married, run for my life, or change my name to Fudge. And since two of those choices end with me being dead at the hands of Voldemort, I guess the other isn't that bad." His stomach twisted and protested the very thought however. He felt sick.

Before anyone could offer further argument or consolation the door opened and Percy re-entered, catching all their attention. "What ever you're going to do, you had best do it soon," he informed all of them. "The final document was just filed at the Ministry. Fudge will be here within a half hour to take Harry away."

"Well that's it then," Dumbledore proclaimed. "No more arguments. We have no choice in this matter, and we don't have time to find a different solution." He looked rather pointedly at Snape at this. The Potion Master just glared and looked away. Harry took that to mean that Arthur was right and that Snape had indeed been persuaded. He felt momentarily faint.

"We had best get this over with then," Dumbledore continued. "Percy we'll need your help with the documentation."

"Documentation?" Percy asked in confusion.

"Harry and Snape are getting married," Ron informed his brother. Percy's eyes widened in shock and he looked to his parents for confirmation.

"Can you get the paper filed tonight?" Arthur asked his son.

Percy sputtered for a moment, and then seem to catch himself. "Of course," he nodded, though his eyes were still wide with disbelief. "I can sneak it in with the rest of my paperwork before records close tonight."

"Well, then let's get to it," Dumbledore insisted. "Harry, come here."

Harry rose to his feet, surprised to find that his legs actually still supported him as he walked somewhat dazed toward the Headmaster and Professor Snape. He caught the look McGonagall threw him, a mixture of pity and disbelief as if she too could not believe that the hero of her house was going to have to marry the head of Slytherin. He couldn't begin to imagine what this was going to spell for the rest of the year, how this would affect his standing at the school. But considering if he didn't do this, in a half hour he'd be dragged out of this castle for good by Cornelius Fudge, he supposed there was no choice in the matter.

He found himself standing in front of the Headmaster beside a glaring Severus Snape. "Clasp right hands together," Dumbledore told them both.

Harry held out one shaking hand, unable to make himself take the initiative and actually take Snape's hand himself. Snape did it for him. Snape's hand was not shaking, and his grip was just a trifle too tight for Harry's peace of mind. His hand felt warm and Harry found his face heating in embarrassment. He couldn't bring himself to look into Snape's face, not certain he could endure the look of disgust he was certain he would see there. He felt humiliated by the whole situation.

"We'll keep this simple then," Dumbledore assure them all. "Just a quick exchange of vows and that will be the extent of it. Harry, repeat after me. I, Harry James Potter, take you Severus Alexander Snape as my bond-mate, joining body, name, house and power to thine."

They weren't the words Harry was familiar with in Muggle marriages, but he repeated them carefully, not really believing any of this was happening. Nor could he believe the words he next heard.

"I, Severus Alexander Snape, take you Harry James Potter as my bond-mate, joining body, name, house and power to thine." The melodious voice of the Potions Master was filled with the same snide mocking tones he'd come to expect in the last six years. He still didn't dare look up.

"Excellent," Albus nodded, then held out his left hand, wand in his right. One quick tap of his wand and two golden rings appeared in the palm of his hand. He handed one to each of them. Snape took the initiative in this, twisting Harry's right hand over and sliding one of the gold rings onto his third finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," he growled. The ring fit perfectly, no doubt a testament to Dumbledore's magic. But it felt strangely cold and heavy on his hand.

He took the other ring and slid it into Snape's finger, his own hands still shaking noticeable. "With this ring, I thee wed," he muttered weakly the knot in his stomach growing tighter. It suddenly occurred to Harry what typically followed the exchange of rings in most marriage ceremony.

"Then I pronounce you bonded," Albus declared. "You may. . ."

Both Harry and Snape glared at him for all they were worth, silencing any suggestion that they kiss. "Ah, yes, of course," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Right, then the documentation." He waved his wand again, producing a large scroll out of the air. "Standard bonding contract," he informed them, unrolling the scroll on a side table and producing a quill and bottle of ink. "If you would both sign it."

Snape stepped forward and angrily scratched his name across the document, turning then to hand the quill to Harry. Harry momentarily caught the gaze of the Potion Master, nearly flinching under the anger he saw there. He took the quill, turning his attention back to the document and signed away his life on the line next to Snape's signature.

"And Molly and Arthur if you would both witness the document," Albus asked the two of them.

The two Weasleys nodded and came forward to add their own signatures to the document. Harry risked a glance at his two friends. The looks of sympathy on both their faces nearly made Harry cry. Percy stood beside them, looking on, his own face set in a look of pure disbelief and amazement.

"That's it then," Dumbledore announced. He rolled up the scroll, magically made a copy of it, then handed one of them over to Percy. "Good luck, my boy," he informed the young man. Percy nodded and headed back out the door.

"Well, I suggest a celebration is in order," Dumbledore told the group. "While we wait for Minister Fudge to put in an appearance."

Though it was quite obvious that no one was in any mood to celebrate, no one protested as the Headmaster conjured up a bottle of champagne and a tray of sweets. Harry, leaving the champagne to the adults, took one of the chocolates from the tray and sat down on the far side of the room, trying to get his nerves under control. Ron and Hermione sat down beside him in silence. He was peripherally aware of Snape sitting down himself as far from the three of them as possible, while the other five adults each drained a glass of champagne as if they needed the alcohol to get through the rest of the evening.

They didn't have long to wait. Dobby entered a few moments later announcing that Minister Fudge had arrived and wanted to speak with the Headmaster and Harry Potter immediately.

"Show him in here, Dobby," Dumbledore told the elf. The little elf nodded and disappeared. A few moments later the door opened and Minister Fudge strode into the room followed by two Aurors -- Harry recognized them both. They had been assigned as Fudge's body guards when it became obvious that Voldemort had returned finally. Fudge rarely went anywhere without them now. Their presence made Harry sick with the realization that Fudge really did mean to drag him out of Hogwarts this very night.

"Ah, Cornelius!" Albus greeted with a bright smile. "So good to see you. We're having a bit of celebration. Would you care for a glass of champagne?"

Somewhat taken aback by the friendly greeting, Fudge's look of determination faltered briefly. Then he shook his head. "No, I'm not interested in champagne." He waved a document in the air for all of them to see. "I'm here to take. . ."

"But come, Cornelius," Dumbledore interrupted him, holding out a glass of champagne. "It's a marriage celebration."

"Confound it all, Albus!" Fudge exclaimed. "I'm here on official business." He shoved the document at Dumbledore, who sighed and took it from him, looking briefly at the content on the page.

"Yes, so I see," Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and Fudge looked momentarily triumphant. "You've adopted Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Which would be all well and fine I suppose if it were legal."

"I assure it is completely legal," Fudge informed him, and if he was surprised by Dumbledore's apparent lack of amazement at the revelation he didn't let on.

"Well, yes," Dumbledore agreed again. "If Harry were of proper legal status to require a guardian. But as he's now married, it's hardly an issue any longer."

Fudge's look of triumphant vanished and he glanced at the champagne Albus was still holding out toward him. "Married? What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry is married," he announced. "We're celebrating the nuptials even now." He raised the champagne glass again. "So as good as your intentions are to rescue Harry from the dubious protections of his uncle, it's no longer necessary."

"Married! To whom!" Fudge demanded, turning toward Harry, his gaze instantly falling on Hermione Granger who was sitting beside Harry and holding his hand in her own. He advanced on two of them. "Ms. Granger, I might have known. This matter will be taken care of immediately. You will both. . ."

To Harry's utter surprise, Snape was suddenly on his feet and across the room standing between him and Fudge before the Minister could take another step toward them. "He's married to me, Fudge!" the Potion Master growled at the man. He held up his right hand, the golden ring flashing on his finger. "And he's not going anywhere with you. Ever!"

Fudge actually took several steps back in shock, the two Aurors with him exchanging looks of wary surprise. Fudge looked toward Dumbledore for confirmation. The headmaster happily waved his own document at the Minister. "Would you like to see the marriage certificate?" he asked brightly.

Fudge took the certificate Dumbledore offered him, blanching as he read the signatures on it. "You can't expect me to believe that this marriage is . . ." he paused as if searching for an appropriate word. He glared at Snape. "That this marriage is valid?"

The sneer that Snape threw him reminded Harry of the look the professor got just before he took away a huge numbers of points from Gryffindor. "Minister Fudge, apart from that fact that our private life is none of your business, you can't actually be suggesting that you think I wouldn't take advantage of every opportunity afforded to me?"

If he hadn't mentioned the bit about a private life, Harry suspected he might not have understood what Snape meant. As it was not only did he figure it out but so did Hermione and Ron and all three of them turned bright red at the implication. Surely Snape wasn't suggesting. . .actually judging by the look of equal parts embarrassment and fury on Fudge's face, that was exactly what Snape was implying. Harry looked over at Dumbledore and McGonagall, but neither of them looked particularly worried by the idea. Molly and Arthur both looked embarrassed but not worried, and Madam Hooch was actually doing her best to cover up a snicker of laughter.

Fudge glared at Snape in disgust. "No, I suppose that would be expecting too much of you, wouldn't it?" He turned to glare at Dumbledore. "I can't believe you would allow this, Dumbledore! To put Harry Potter into the hands of this man!"

Dumbledore just smiled happily at him. "Why, Cornelius I can't image what you are talking about. I'm so very happy for Harry and Severus. It's a wonderful match, don't you think?"

There were times when Harry believed that the Headmaster was quite unhinged. How he could say the things he did with such a believable smile on his face was beyond Harry. He'd almost swear the man actually believed everything he said.

Far from agreeing with Dumbledore, Fudge just snatched up his adoption papers and strode out of the room in anger, his two body guards following meekly along behind him.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Dumbledore said brightly. "Brilliantly played, Severus!"

For a brief moment Snape almost looked pleased by Dumbledore's comment, then he caught sight of Harry staring at him in disbelief, and the sneer of disgust returned with a vengeance.

"What happens next, sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore. "Do you think he'll try something else like that?"

Dumbledore just shook his head. "I think we're safe enough from Fudge. He won't cross Severus. And I'm more than certain Severus can deal with any other problems that might arise with the Ministry."

Not certain at all that he liked the idea of having his safety suddenly handed over to Severus Snape, Harry just fell silent. He was more than grateful at Molly's suggestion that they call it a night, pointing out that there was still school in the morning. Ron bid good-bye to his parents, then clapped both Harry and Hermione on the shoulder. "Let's get up to the tower before anything else happens!" he told the two of them.

Before they could leave the room, Professor McGonagall stopped them. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "You'll be moving immediately into the dungeons with Severus. I'll have the elves send your belongings down."

Harry, struck speechless, could only stare at her. Ron, however, became quite vocal. "What! You can't expect Harry to live with the Slytherins! He belongs up in Gryffindor tower with the rest of us. Just because he had to marry that . . .that. . .Professor Snape doesn't automatically make him a Slytherin!"

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said curtly. "I'm not saying Harry will be moving into the Slytherin dormitories. He'll be moving into Severus' quarters. They're married now, and while we don't often have married students on campus, the rules are quite explicit. They reside either at a private house in Hogsmeade, or in private rooms within the castle. They do not share dormitories with the single students; that would be improper. So unless Severus is planning on moving to Hogsmeade. . ." She glanced expectantly over at Snape who was waiting surprisingly patiently by the door. The glare in his eyes was indication enough of what he thought of this whole situation.

"No, I'm not planning on moving," he growled.

"Then Harry will be living in the dungeons," McGonagall confirmed. "Now run along all of you. Despite the situation you will all be expected to behave like students come morning, and classes start early for all of us."

Ron and Hermione just stared at Harry in horror as he shrugged and made his way reluctantly toward Snape. He stared at the Potion Master, not entirely certain what to expect from him. Snape just snorted in disgust, turned in a flaring swirl of robes and stormed toward the stairs that led to the dungeons. Harry followed silently behind him, heart pounding in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3 Dungeon Dwellers

Author's Note: Thank you to all my reviewers -- they made me giggle. I hope you continue to enjoy the tale.

Chapter 3 - Dungeon Dwellers

He couldn't believe this was happening. Bad enough he had to spend potions class in this man's company, but to be now expected to live with him! Oh, he had no doubt he'd find a way to survive it. After all it couldn't be any worse than the years he'd endured with the Dursleys. But the school terms had always been his one reprieve from that nightmare -- living in the Gryffindor Tower had been like some wonderful dream he looked forward to all summer. The idea that he'd never have that again made him sick to his stomach. To give up Gryffindor Tower in favor of the dank, dark dungeons!

Snape led him down through the bowels of the castle, down several dark, poorly lit corridors, their steps echoing ominously in the stone hallways. He paused finally before a portrait of Salazar Slytherin and a very large snake.

"The password is Eldorado," Snape said for both the painting's and Harry's benefit. The portrait slid open and Harry followed Snape into the chambers that would be his new home from now on.

Harry paused in the doorway. Not quiet what he expected. Despite being in the dungeons and lacking the high windows he was used to having in Gryffindor Tower, the main room actually reminded him somewhat of the Gryffindor common room. Well furnished -- though the primary color scheme was green and not red, thick rugs on the floor, a plush couch by the magically burning fireplace, comfortable-looking chairs on either side. There was even a Wizarding chess set waiting in a well-lit corner of the room. Candles and oil lamps illuminated the place more brightly than he'd expected, and despite being in the dungeons, it didn't feel at all damp. Or cold.

The walls were draped with tapestries much like the ones he'd seen throughout the rest of the castle, and there were several doors off this main one which Harry guessed led to other chambers. Snape he noticed had taken off his outer robe, tossing it over the back of the couch. The man walked toward a sideboard where he poured himself a tumbler full of an amber-colored liquid and downed it in one gulp. Harry took his distraction as an opportunity to glance into some of the other rooms -- a well furnished office off to one side, a potions workroom off of that, a private library, and a rather enormous bedroom with a private bath. While he was looking inside, Dobby appeared, along with his trunk, which he had not yet managed to unpack.

"Here is Harry Potter's belongings," Dobby announced. "Harry Potter is having to stay in the dungeons now, and Dobby is certain to visit him often!" The little elf smiled happily up at Harry as if delighted by the turn of events -- but Harry had never really figured out just what sorts of things the house elves did and did not understand. "Will Harry Potter be wanting Dobby to help him with anything?"

"No, thanks, Dobby," Harry assured him. "Thanks for bringing my things."

Dobby grinned from ear to ear. "Harry Potter is considered himself most gratefully thanked for his kindness." And with that the little elf vanished again.

Harry stared down at his trunk, then looked over at Professor Snape who was staring at him now as if he were some sort of insect he'd trapped under a microscope. Harry shifted uncomfortably, but when no words were forthcoming from either of them, he sighed and dragged his trunk off to one side, shoving it up against a wall in the main room and out of the way. Snape poured himself another drink and Harry worried suddenly that the man was planning on getting himself good and drunk. He wasn't certain he would know precisely how to deal with a drunk Snape. At least the man wasn't looking at him any longer.

"Excuse me, sir?" he asked quietly. Snape stiffened, but didn't turn. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" As far as he could see there was only the one bedroom.

"You can sleep in the closet for all I care, Potter!" Snape snarled as he turned and pinned Harry with a black glare.

Harry flinched and took a step back, his insides freezing, his heart fluttering at the words, memories of ten years of small cramped quarters suddenly returning with a vengeance in a most unexpected way. He'd run away from Hogwarts before he'd go through that again!

His reaction seemed to have startled Snape and to Harry's surprise the man's glare faded instantly, his face paling. Harry saw his grip tighten momentarily on the drink he was holding, then he quickly set it aside, taking a hesitant step toward Harry. "I'm sorry," his words were even more unbelievable considering Harry had never heard him express remorse for anything. "That was. . .I didn't mean to say that. I wasn't thinking. Please accept my apology." The man actually looked vaguely sick, and Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out if it was actual remorse for his words, or over the idea of apologizing for anything.

Harry just nodded tightly, wrapping his arms around himself against an imagined chill. He said nothing more, waiting for Snape to remember his initial question. The man seemed to gather himself again, and glanced briefly at the couch and then just sighed in resignation. "The bed is big enough for the both of us, Mr. Potter," he informed him, and Harry paled at his words. "And it would look odd if anyone found you sleeping on the couch. I wouldn't put it past Fudge to send spies to investigate."

"You expect me to. . ." Harry sputtered in shock.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's anger returned full blown. "Trust me, I'm no happier about this situation than you are. But we are both stuck, and at some point must bow to certain inevitabilities, one being that we will be unable to avoid spending a certain amount of time in each other's company. But despite what I said to Minister Fudge earlier, I assure you your virtue is quite safe from me!"

Harry felt his face burning red in embarrassment at his words, growing hotter as the man added in the most mocking tone he'd ever heard, "I trust you can offer me the same assurances?"

"You don't actually think I would--" Harry sputtered.

"No, I don't, Mr. Potter," Snape cut him off. "Please extend the same courtesy to me!"

"Fine!" Harry glared at him. "I'm going to bed!" He grabbed his pajamas out of his trunk and all but ran for the relative safety of the bedroom, disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. He hated that man! Hated him! And it was all he could do from keeping from kicking the walls in fury.

He sat down on the edge of an enormous tub and attempted to get his emotions back under control. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't imagine how Dumbledore expected the two of them to live together without killing one another. The temptation to draw his wand and hex Snape into oblivion was almost overwhelming. Instead he stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the enormous tiled tub, noting with some surprise that Snape actually had a shower rigged in the plumbing -- a rarity in the castle, but a necessity he supposed for a Potions Master. One never knew when a cauldron might explode all over you.

He took a quick shower, changed into his pajamas, and then headed cautiously out into the bedroom. To his relief there was no sign of Snape.

He stared at the enormous canopied bed on the far side of the room, green curtains of course. Snape was right -- the bed was big enough for two. Big enough for four or five if they were really fond of one another. But the very idea of ever climbing willingly into Severus Snape's bed! He shivered. Bloody hell!

In the flickering candlelight the golden ring on his right hand winked up at him. Married! To Snape. He wondered if that made him Harry Snape now? Or worse yet Severus Potter? His parents were probably turning over in the graves. And he couldn't imagine what his godfather would say when he found out. Sirius would probably return in a rage and rip Snape's throat out.

For some reason that thought actually made Harry feel better and he reluctantly walked over to the bed, and set his glasses and wand down on one of the nightstands. Then climbing onto the bed, he slid under the blankets, moving to the edge of the bed as far away from the other side as he could get without falling off the side. He thought he detected the faint scent of cinnamon on the sheets. Unable to sleep he lay on his back in silence, too strung out to really piece together coherent thoughts.

Perhaps twenty minutes later he heard the bedroom door open and Snape entered, heading toward the bathroom. Harry listened in brooding silence while the shower ran and he pointedly didn't try to picture the Potion Master in there bathing. Really, he told himself, this was ridiculous. He was in his most hated teacher's bed, for God sake! There had to be rules against this!

Rules in the Muggle world perhaps. But he wasn't in the Muggle world and he was beginning to suspect there was a whole set of rules in the Wizarding World he had yet to learn about. He never imagined the day would come when he'd actually find himself missing the sane familiarity of the Muggle world. But then when he really thought about it, how much stranger was it living in a cupboard under his uncle's stairs, wondering if he'd be allowed to eat sometime that week? He sighed, resigned to the fact that Muggle or Wizard, his life would never make sense.

Eventually Snape emerged from the bath, moving toward the large wardrobe that stood off to one side. Despite himself, Harry's eyes were drawn to the man.

Snape was dressed only in a pair of pajama bottoms, and was rummaging through the wardrobe for a shirt to pull on. It occurred to Harry that it probably meant Snape typically didn't wear any top to bed -- and despite everything Harry found his gaze drawn to the man's torso. He wasn't certain what precisely he'd been expecting, robes hid a great deal -– certainly pale skin, perhaps a too thin frame, and, even though he'd already seen the dark mark once before, an unmarked body. That wasn't at all the reality. Pale skin yes, but the frame was muscled and strong -- a young man in the prime of his life, a body athletic and defined suggesting that Snape lived a far more active life than Harry had ever imagined. And he'd been prepared he supposed for the dark mark on the forearm that he could see from even across the room -- but he hadn't expected the flash of color on his right shoulder blade of a tattoo -- a red rose entwined with a green serpent. A tattoo like that went against everything he knew about the dour Potions Master.

He also wasn't expecting the scars he could see here and there upon the pale skin -- wounds that looked like they'd come from some sort of knife or blade. And then just as suddenly it was all gone from view as Snape pulled on a thin nightshirt, and Harry realized he'd actually been ogling the man. Horrified, he rolled over onto his side, turning his back to Snape and informing himself quite firmly that he hadn't found him in the least bit attractive.

Something occurred to him -- the sight of the dark mark perhaps bringing it to the foreground. Voldemort was not going to be pleased by this turn of events. He'd long ago accepted the fact that he was first on a list of people Voldemort intended to kill -- right along side Albus Dumbledore. He supposed that the moment word of this got out, Severus Snape's name would also be added to that list.

A moment later he felt the bed move, the mattress dipping slightly as Snape climbed into the other side of the bed, keeping well away from Harry, and the unreality of the situation struck Harry so hard he almost laughed. "I wonder why it chose you," he said out loud, before he had really made a conscious decision to speak. "I mean the Marriage Stone," he clarified without turning over. "Why did it choose you as my. . .why it would think that you and I. . ."

"Mr. Potter, I am not accustomed to chatting in bed," Snape's voice was sharp and cutting, and far closer than Harry was prepared for despite the fact that he knew the man was lying right next to him in this enormous bed that suddenly seemed ridiculously small.

"I am," he answered without thinking.

Snape let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Have vast amounts of worldly experience, do you?" he asked, voice filled with mockery.

Face burning red in embarrassment Harry turned over to glare at the man. "That's not what I meant!" he shouted. He was completely unprepared for the sight of Severus Snape lying beside him in bed, amusement and disdain shining in his eyes with equal parts. Harry sighed and lay back down. "Ron's bed is next to mine," he explained simply. "We talk at night." Something, he guessed, he'd be sorely missing now for the rest of his life.

"Do I in any way, shape or form remind you of Mr. Weasley?" Snape demanded. "Or is this perhaps your way of expressing your remorse that you did not take your friend up on his oh, so, noble offer to sacrifice his own dubious future with Ms. Granger and marry him instead of me? Something being noble Gryffindors they both no doubt offered, and you just as nobly had no choice but to refuse."

Shocked, Harry could only glare at him fury. "Were you born this hateful or did you take lessons somewhere?!"

"Years of practice, Mr. Potter!" Snape shouted back at him.

"I hate you!"

"Good! My life is complete! I've taught yet another Gryffindor how to hate. How ever am I going to top myself this time?!"

Harry strangled back a shriek of rage and turned his back on the man, rolling away from him. "Shut up and leave me alone!"

"Gladly!" Snape growled, and judging by the movement of the bed he too had turned his back on Harry.

Harry guessed Snape had also just won whatever argument they had just had -- he'd certainly found a way of shutting Harry up. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts on finding ways of driving Severus Snape absolutely insane for his treatment of him. Muggle rock music maybe, he thought. He'd find himself a very loud stereo and start blasting the music every time Snape had papers to grade. Or a nice family reunion -- first chance he got he was going to invite Sirius and Remus to come for an extremely long visit. And if there really was a Snape Manor, he was going to have it painted Gryffindor red!

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Three hours later Severus Snape found himself lying awake in his bed unable to sleep despite the lateness of the hour. Of course it wasn't every night he was forced to share his bed with a young man nearly half his age. A rather attractive young man, he told himself bitterly. The whole situation was phenomenally unfair. And he would go to his grave blaming Dumbledore for it.

If he'd known that morning that he'd end the night as bond-mate to Harry Potter, he wouldn't have bothered getting out of bed in the first place. He'd never really liked Potter -- granted he also never really hated the boy, not the way Potter believed he did. Most of his behavior was an act necessary to maintain his fiction as a loyal Death Eater. But even before he'd had to take up the mantel of spy, he had felt a certain enmity toward Harry Potter because of his father and godfather. Couldn't be helped really. Amazing how long resentment lasted.

And despite all that, he had noticed abstractly earlier that night when he'd first seen Potter in the great hall that the boy had matured into a very attractive young man. More attractive than his father had been certainly -- took after his mother more and more each day. And much as he hated to admit it even to himself, he did admire the boy's courage. He didn't know anyone else in the world who would have attacked Voldemort with a broom of all things -- certainly he would never have dreamed of simply stealing the Eye of Odin from the Dark Lord as if it were nothing more than a Snitch. There was something poetically Gryffindor about that whole battle.

But the resentment had lingered -- mostly he supposed because he had imagined the boy basking in the adoration of his fans like some mindless celebrity -- something he had no patience for at all. Even during his first year the idea of a boy-celebrity had turned his stomach. He'd imagined the boy brought up in the lap of luxury, pampered and spoiled his entire life for being nothing more than James Potter's son. One of the reasons he disliked Draco Malfoy as well -- though he was much better at hiding his dislike of that particular student.

Of course Potter had to go and crush all those delusions as well. Locked in a cupboard, beaten and starved. Certainly sounded like the lap of luxury to him. Potter might not have realized it, but he had succeeded in kicking all of them in the teeth with that little revelation. The look on Dumbledore's face alone was one he'd never seen before. Not often the greatest wizard of the century miscalculated so grossly as that.

And the worse part was the way Potter had explained the situation -- that his uncle had only starved him for five or six days at most, no big deal, no great hardship. Not like he was trying to kill him or anything. He wondered what else the boy had been forced to endure over these last fifteen years, and how he had restrained himself from screaming in mindless rage every time his Potions Master had mocked him for his celebrity status and spoiled lifestyle. Severus knew himself well enough to know that he would not have shown such restraint -- not by half. He would have hexed his antagonizers to oblivion long ago. Case in point, the treatment he'd received from James Potter and Sirius Black when he was Harry's age had made him nearly as vicious as Lucius Malfoy was.

And now the boy was his bond-mate. If it wasn't so pathetically ridiculous he might actually enjoy the fact -- God knows it was going to send Black through the roof, not to mention Malfoy and Voldemort. Lily and James Potter were probably spinning in their graves. And he was more than certain his own deceased parents were laughing in unrestrained glee.

"The boy needs you," Albus had tried that line of persuasion as a last tactic -- something that still surprised Severus. The logic of Dumbledore's arguments had not moved him in the slightest, the fact that there was no one else available, that very few people could stand up to Fudge successfully, that it would be safer for him to give up his role as spy and join the forces of light once and for all. No, the one argument he'd been unable to find a decent counter to was the one argument he didn't believe for a moment. That somehow Harry Potter -- or anyone for that matter -- might actually NEED him. And he'd weakened and given in without further protest despite the evidence staring him the face that Potter had no need at all of him and hated the very idea of spending any more time with him than necessary for classes.

He could still feel Harry's hand shaking in his own as he'd gripped it during their so brief ceremony. Terrified -- the boy who'd faced down Voldemort and an army of Death Eaters was terrified of the idea of spending any time in his company. Swell. Wonderful. Such little joys to brighten up his dismal life.

But regardless of Harry Potter's feelings, the fact remained that like it or not they were bonded now. Harry was his responsibility. And the sooner they both accepted it, the better off they would both be. Merlin knew they couldn't spend the rest of their life fighting like they had tonight -- though he had to admit Harry looked rather lovely with his eyes blazing with rage, and his body quivering with anger.

He sighed in exasperation. He was not about to make advances toward a sixteen-year-old boy -- even if they were married. Not to mention that he knew he would be rejected out of hand, and he'd never been fond of the idea of force despite the words he'd spoken so convincingly to Minister Fudge that night. He supposed Fudge imagined he was spending this night ravaging the hero of the Wizarding World. No doubt Black would accuse him of the same thing. He wasn't looking forward to the next few months.

A sound caught his attention and he rolled over to look at Harry. Still asleep, the boy was shaking his head fitfully. A moment later a whimper escaped from his lips and he began thrashing in the bed as if fighting with someone. A cry of terror replaced the whimper, bringing Severus fully awake as he sat up in shock. Uncertainly he reached out and touched Harry's shoulder, shaking him. "Potter!" he called, wanting to wake the boy up without startling him too terribly.

Harry cried out again, twisting away from his hand. "Potter!" he called louder, and the sharp sound of his voice brought Harry out of his sleep, though he continued to shudder and shrink away from him in the darkness.

"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon!" he cried out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He flinched away from Severus' hand, covering his head with his arms as if to ward off an expected blow.

Severus froze, several explanations springing to mind, none of them even remotely pleasant. He felt his heart clench in his chest, an icy chill gripping him. "Harry," he said more gently. "It's me. Severus." Then thinking that the boy might not recognize his given name, he added, "Snape. It's me, Snape. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Harry stilled at once, though his breath came in heavy deep gasps as he blinked up at him in the darkness of the curtained bed. "Professor?" he asked uncertainly.

Severus winced at that, not certain he was overly comfortable with someone calling him professor while lying beside him in bed. "Yes," he admitted.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "Didn't mean to wake you." He looked amazingly vulnerable lying there trying not to shake or cry, and Snape had the sudden urge to comfort him.

"That's alright," he assured him. "I. . ." he sighed, not certain how to bring up this subject. "Is there a reason you would expect to find your uncle beside you instead of me?" Not perhaps the most tactful way of asking the question, but Severus had never really done tact.

Harry blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

"You called me Uncle Vernon when I woke you up," Severus explained. "When I mentioned the various methods of abuse earlier this evening, there was one sort I neglected to list. Did your uncle. . ."

"No!" Harry's voice broke in shock. "No!" he insisted again. "He'd never touch a freak like me!" To Severus' surprise the boy's voice was filled with utter contempt, and he was uncertain if it was directed at the hated uncle or at the boy himself. He guessed 'freak' was a term the uncle used to describe wizards.

"Then why did you think I was him?" he asked gently.

"I have nightmares," Harry shrugged. "All the time, every night. I woke them up screaming. Uncle Vernon would. . ." he broke off, looking away, his expression unreadable.

"Uncle Vernon would do what?"

"He'd throw things at me," Harry admitted. "From the doorway. To wake me. Shoes mostly. If I wanted to eat during the day I didn't dare fall asleep during the night and risk waking them up. I usually just use a silence charm on myself at night, but I'm not allowed to do magic over the summer."

Snape swallowed around a lump in his throat, tasting bile at the thought of this boy's uncle throwing shoes at him when he woke screaming in the night instead of comforting him like any sane man would. "You mean you use silence charms when you were in Gryffindor Tower so you wouldn't wake your friends?" He wondered if anyone knew what sorts of nightmares this boy had -- even his best friends? Didn't sound very Gryffindor to him -- surely his friends would have been happy to comfort him?

Harry just nodded miserably. "Yes, I'm sorry. I guess I just forgot tonight. It won't happen again." He reached out toward the wand he'd left on the bedside table with his glasses. Severus stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"If I can't hear you, I won't be able to wake you," he pointed out.

His words caught Harry off guard, and the boy blinked up at him in confusion. "Why would you want to?"

Severus stared at him. The boy seemed genuinely baffled that he would want to help him. "Because that's what you do when someone has nightmares," he said simply.

The boy's confusion didn't fade in the slightest. "Better have lots of shoes handy then. I'll keep you awake all night."

He restrained himself admirably from strangling the boy. "Harry Potter, I am not going to hit you with a shoe!" he snarled in outrage, instantly regretting it when the boy flinched away from him. "I'm not your uncle," he added more gently. The boy didn't move, his expression unchanged, and it occurred to Severus then that this happy, go-lucky, trusting Gryffindor was neither happy nor lucky, and if he was reading the situation right, didn't trust anyone.

Severus turned toward the nightstand on his side of the bed, pulling open one of the drawers there and rooting around in the contents inside. "You know there is one good thing about being bonded to a Potions Master," he told the boy mildly, keeping his voice as casual as he could. He found what he was looking for and pulled a small glass vial of blue liquid from the drawer. "An endless supply of potions!" He held the vial out to the boy.

Harry stared at it. "What is it?" He made no move to take it from Severus' hand.

Severus frowned. "You studied this last year in my class," he informed the boy, unable to hide his resentment that the boy took such little interest in his subject.

"Was this before, after or during my numerous stays in the hospital wing?" Harry asked irritably, though he took the potion from Severus' hand and began working the stopper loose.

Severus' frown deepened. Now that he thought about it Harry had missed a great deal of class due to the constant attacks he'd been under from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Funny that he hadn't thought of it before now; but then a little Potter went a long ways. The times he was present and accounted for he more that pushed Severus beyond his tolerance quota. He supposed it was a testimony to Ms. Granger's tutoring ability that the boy had actually received tolerable marks on his OWLS.

He watched in silence as Harry sniffed carefully at the potion, brow furled in concentration. It struck him suddenly that the boy had remarkably beautiful eyes -- pity they were always hidden behind those horrible glasses. "Dreamless Sleep Draught," he stated, though there was a note of question in his voice.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," Severus nodded. "That small bit should get you through the rest of the night without any dreams."

The look of hope in the boy's eyes did something surprisingly strange to Severus' heart -- it almost hurt. "Do you have more of this?" he asked hesitantly.

Again he resisted the urge to snap at the boy. He was a Potions Master for God's sake! Though he said nothing, his expression must have been enough to make Potter realize the idiocy of his statement. The boy flushed and looked down in embarrassment -- at least Severus had assumed it was embarrassment. When the boy spoke he realized it was in fact shame.

"I mean. . .I know you have more. . .can make more, I just. . ." He broke off and Severus realized in shock that Harry had been asking if he had more of the potion that he would be willing to 'share' with him.

"Never mind," the boy muttered, risking an apologetic glance at him. "Thank you for this," he added and downed the vial quickly before handing the empty glass back to him. Considering the boy owned a nearly priceless invisibility cloak and one of the most expensive brooms on the market, Severus had always assumed that he had been given pretty much anything he wanted. Apparently not if he wasn't even able to ask for something as simple as a much needed potion.

"I have as much as you need," he informed him in a tight voice. "As I said, an endless supply of potions."

"Thank you," the boy said again, the potion already taking affect as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I'll pay you back, I promise." He was sound asleep before Severus could inform him that there was no need to pay him back.

Flabbergasted, he stared down at the sleeping boy in silence. Seemed he didn't know Harry Potter even half so well as he thought. And he wasn't comfortable at all with the fact that every other thing this obnoxious individual did seemed to provoke a strong emotional reaction in him; nor was he comfortable with the stray thoughts about the boy's relative attractiveness and charms. They weren't appropriate, and struck far to close to the mark, considering that by morning the majority of the Wizarding World would probably believe that he'd spent the night forcing his attentions on their innocent young hero.

He brushed away a lock of hair from the boy's forehead. They'd both be far better off if they spoke as little as possible. Certainly no more of this idle chattering in bed, not if it was going to put all sorts of ideas into his mind. And while he was certainly not going to hit the boy with any shoes, he'd also have to make certain he didn't make any other type of contact with him -- Severus froze as he realized that he was currently in the process of tracing the boy's features lightly with his fingers. He snatched his hand away as if burned.

"Bloody hell!" he hissed under his breath and rolled away, turning his back on the boy. Sometimes he really hated his life.

He was up at dawn, glad to have an excuse to get out of the bed and away from Harry Potter. He showered and dressed quickly, pausing before his wardrobe to think about the trunk that Harry had left in the main room. Much as he hated the idea of having to share his quarters with anyone, he supposed there was nothing he could do about it now. It was his responsibility to provide for his bond-mate, and he supposed that also meant a suitable place to live.

Didn't mean he had to share his own wardrobe with him however. Grabbing his wand, he transformed a candleholder into a second wardrobe, positioning it near his own. Then he levitated the trunk into the bedroom and left it in front of the large piece of furniture for Harry to unpack.

Satisfied, he headed into his office to gather his material together for the first day of class. He had first years, third years and unfortunately advanced potions with sixth and seventh years that day, and he wasn't at all certain how he was going to deal with teaching a class with his bond-mate in it. He supposed there was no need to maintain his Death Eater fiction now -- more likely than not the news of his marriage would be all over the papers this morning. Marriage to Harry Potter would proclaim his loyalties more loudly than anything else he could think of. Which meant of course he no longer had to maintain the farce of favoring Malfoy above all other students.

But he did so love taking points away from the Gryffindors!

Of course, he couldn't allow himself to really treat Harry much differently either -- bond-mate or no. He was still his student, and he would have to maintain a professional relationship with him inside the class in the interest of fairness. Besides, the boy was abysmal at potions despite the fact that he'd done well in his OWLS -- he personally felt the judges had been far too lenient last year. But if Potter didn't shape up, he'd fail his NEWTS. And Severus couldn't imagine a more shameful outcome than Severus Snape's bond-mate failing his Potions Newt.

He worked for about a half hour on his notes for his first class, before heading back toward his bedroom to retrieve the new grading roster he'd left there a few nights earlier. As he passed through the common room he noticed Potter fiddling around with something by the fireplace. Harry didn't look up, and Severus didn't greet him.

The roster was in his nightstand and as he pulled it out of the bottom drawer he noticed that the bed had been made. He paused, frowning. The house elves never came this early.

He glanced over at the new wardrobe; the chest was gone, no doubt unpacked and put away. He also noticed that the doors to his wardrobe were firmly closed -- he'd actually left one of them slightly opened. Crossing toward it, he yanked open the door to look inside. The night clothes he'd been wearing last night -- the ones he was fairly certain he'd left draped over the back of the chair near the bathroom door, were folded neatly inside and placed in the laundry basket. Not the elves then -- they would have taken the basket with them.

A niggling suspicion began to grow in his mind and he headed swiftly toward the bathroom. There should have been some towels on the floor or draped over the rim of the bath. And he knew he'd left his straight razor on the edge of the sink after he'd shaved that morning. But the bathroom was spotless, no signs that he'd been there at all -- no signs that Harry had been there either.

Turning, he headed toward the bedroom door, pausing in the doorway to watch Harry. The boy wasn't fiddling with anything, he was making a pot of coffee, setting up the tray service Severus left near the hearth. And unless Severus was sorely unobservant Harry Potter didn't drink coffee -- he, like most of the other students, preferred tea in the mornings. Besides which there was only one cup on the tray service and he'd made no effort to add another. Severus also noticed that the robe he'd removed last night and draped over the back of the couch was gone, no doubt hung up in the wardrobe or put in the laundry basket with the other things.

Several things clicked in his mind. If the Dursleys starved, beat and imprisoned the boy, what would stop them from working him like a house elf as well? Now more than ever he regretted the utterly stupid comment he'd made last night about having Harry sleep in the closet. His apology had been sincere but it seemed the damage had been done -- Harry didn't really expect this new living arrangement to be much different than his previous one. No doubt he was simply behaving in the manner he assumed was expected of him.

The rage Severus felt startled him. It was directly in equal parts toward the Dursleys, himself and surprisingly Albus Dumbledore for putting him in this situation in the first place. "Mr. Potter!"

Startled, Harry jumped, and Severus had to bite back the words that immediately sprang to mind. He wasn't mad at the boy, and it wouldn't do to take his anger out on him. Harry glared at him, and he found he was actually relieved to see the defiance in the boy's gaze.

"Mr. Potter," he said more calmly, forcing himself to control his emotions. "You are my bond-mate and as such this is now your home. You are not my ward, nor my servant, and I neither expect nor require you to clean up after me." He looked at the tray in the boy's hands, took a few steps toward him. "Nor do I expect you to wait on me or serve me in any manner. It is a kindness and I would thank you for it, but it is not required. Do you understand?"

Harry said nothing, just stood staring at him, tray seeming forgotten in his hands. The defiance however never faded from his eyes and to Severus surprise, he walked forward and very pointedly set the tray with coffee, cream and sugar down on the table in front of the couch. Then he stood back and stared at him in silence, mouth set in a firm, defiant line, eyes gleaming with challenge. It took Severus a moment to realize just what exactly it was the boy was waiting for.

He took a hesitant step forward and picked up the cup of coffee. "Thank you," he said firmly.

Something flickering in Harry's eyes, surprise perhaps that he'd actually meant what he'd said. "You're welcome," he answered just as firmly. The sheer civility of the moment unnerved both of them.

"I'm going to breakfast," Harry announced.

Severus just nodded and watched as the boy left their quarters. He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. One thing was certain, life with Harry Potter certainly was not going to be dull.

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Author's Note: One reviewer raised a question I wanted to address briefly (I love things like this that make me analyze my own writing in more detail!). I was asked, why was Hooch or Dumbledore not mentioned as a potential marriage candidate for Harry? I might add that McGonagall was also in the room.

While I don't ever mention Hooch specifically in reference to this, I do later in the story infer that McGonagall and Sinistra (not present at the moment) are the only other single teachers at the school. I don't know if this is true or not as I don't think it's mentioned in canon. We can assume also that Dumbledore is not married either. However the point is stress that this marriage must be 'valid' -- Fudge implies the marriage must be consummated to make it valid. I found it unbelievable that anyone would think Dumbledore or McGonagall would be considered suitable for someone as young as Harry. Snape however seems to have a reputation that removes the question entirely. As I said, I'll imply later that Hooch is already married when the subject comes up again.

Sirius Black, however, will have something to say on the subject of Sinistra, and I hope you'll like my reasoning.

Regarding the description in this chapter of Snape's physical good health -- while I love skinny, scrawny Snape as much as strong, powerful Snape, I actually think the later is the most likely. Snape we know must be nearly the same age as Remus Lupin. We can guess he is between 20-25 years older than Harry (he's 36 in this story). A Muggle man in his 30's and 40's (provided he's lived a fairly healthy lifestyle) is in the prime of his life. If wizards live at least 2 times as long as Muggles, then the 30's and 40's would be little different than the early 20's in reality.

Even Rowlings in Book 3 describes Remus Lupin as a 'young man' when the children first see him on the train.


	4. Chapter 4 Facing the World

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for your advice on how to fix my problem with If you hadn't noticed, I have been unable to upload any new documents for several days. I am still unable to upload new documents but Heather68 told me of a work around. It is possible to edit the previous uploaded chapters and export them back to the document manager. After that it is just a matter of replacing the old text with the new text. I appreciate all the help!!!

Chapter 4 - Facing the World

Harry fled the dungeons praying he didn't meet up with any of the Slytherins on his way to the Great Hall. He had no doubt that most of the students were up and about -- first day of school and all. Most people were generally too excited to sleep. He wasn't actually looking forward to facing his friends, not at all certain what sort of reaction he could expect. There were just too many variables. He still hadn't gotten over the fact that he was married. Add to that the fact that he was married to a man and it left his head reeling -- despite Hermione's assurances that the Wizarding World didn't share the typical Muggle prejudices concerning such things. But to add to that the fact that the man in question was everyone's most hated Potions Professor, Severus Snape -- he rather expected to find himself burned in effigy.

As he he'd guessed, the Great Hall was already crowded with students, and as Harry made his way the Gryffindor table, most everyone turned to stare at him and whispered words followed him. He felt his face growing hot, and the small gold ring on his right hand suddenly felt like an enormous chain.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, and both of them jumped up to greet him as he approached. Ron took hold of his arm and pulled him toward a seat, Hermione moving over to make room between the two of them. He was grateful for their consideration, the stares he was getting from Seamus, Dean and Neville almost too much to bear. Especially Neville's. The boy looked like he was about to explode.

"You okay there, Harry?" Ron asked quickly, shooting a glare at the others.

"Fine," Harry assured him. Seamus and Dean were staring at the ring on his finger. He was also aware of the fact the seventh years on one side of him and the fifths on the others were staring as well. Several copies of the Daily Prophet were being passed around the table; each time someone got a copy they'd immediately look up at Harry in disbelief. Ginny Weasley looked as if she were about to burst in to tears. Harry shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

"You okay?" Hermione whispered to him.

"Fine," he repeated.

Hermione and Ron exchanged an odd look. "I mean, are you. . .Snape didn't. . ."

Harry stared at her in horror. "No!" he squeaked. He shot Ron a look of disbelief, disturbed to see that Ron looked quite relieved by his answer. "You didn't actually think that. . ."

"Don't trust the greasy git, do I," Ron pointed out to him. "Wouldn't put anything past him."

Seamus, having caught a passing copy of the Daily Prophet, slapped the newspaper down in front of Harry. "Is it true?" he demanded.

Harry stared down at the front page of the paper. Splashed in bright red letters were the words. "Social Coup of the Century! Severus Snape Marries The Boy Who Lived!"

Harry's eyes widened. It wasn't precisely the article he'd been expecting -- figuring it would insinuate all sorts of nasty things about his private life and his sudden liaison with a current professor. But once again Wizarding society surprised him. The article was focused on the fact that Severus Snape seemed to have pulled off some sort of spectacular social triumph. It mentioned the fact that his family's name had been tarnished by rumors of past association with dark wizards on the part of both Severus Snape and his father Octavius Snape. By marrying Harry Potter, it seemed Severus Snape had done what no one expected, clearing his family name and reinstating one of the Wizarding World's oldest family back into their previously lost standing of respect, as obviously neither Harry Potter nor his Headmaster Dumbledore (suspected of having arranged the marriage) would have agreed to such a liaison if any of the rumors of Death Eater sympathies had been true.

The article then went on to suggest various reactions amongst the other Wizarding families of high standing, and how some of them had best find ways of proving their own loyalties lest the Ministry start looking into the rumors surrounding them. It ended with quotes from several Ministry candidates whom Harry had never met explaining their own involvement in arranging the happy nuptials.

There wasn't a single mention of either their genders or their age differences. Harry glanced over at Hermione in bewildered disbelief. "Told you," she shrugged.

"It's true then?" Seamus repeated.

Harry nodded and as he handed back the paper; the ring on his hand glinted in the morning sunlight. Neville gasped in shock. "Harry!" He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you were arranging a marriage with Snape!" Seamus exclaimed. "It wasn't because of what I said about all his money yesterday, was it? Please tell me that wasn't it?"

"Of course not!" Harry nearly choked on the thought.

"But Snape, Harry!" Neville cried. "Professor Snape! How can you stand it?"

Harry didn't really know how to answer that.

"God, Harry," Dean shuddered. "I can understand arranging a marriage of good quality, but you're the last person who needed to do something like this. And to pick someone like Snape!"

Once again, Harry was left with the idea that there was something about Wizarding society he just wasn't understanding. He turned toward Hermione for an explanation. She looked rather thoughtful. "Not unusual for the older families to arrange marriages for their children," she explained. "It's usually done to increase one's wealth or social standing. As you can see this was a brilliant move on the part of Snape, but you didn't need to increase your social standing. People don't get more famous than you."

"So everyone is going to assume I married him for his money?" Harry asked in disbelief.

She nodded her head. "I'm afraid so. You obviously didn't marry him for love. Or lust," she added as an afterthought. "Or even affection. Or vague apathy."

Neville gasped at the very idea. "Oh, God! Poor Harry! Married to that horrible, horrible monster!"

"Neville!" Harry hissed. "Knock it off!"

Seamus slapped Neville lightly on the back. "Yeah, Neville, that is Harry's bond-mate you're insulting now."

Neville's face twisted up in misery and he stared across the table at Harry in horror.

"I didn't mean that!" Harry said quickly. "I just meant. . .oh hell!" He looked over at Ron. "Didn't you tell them anything?"

Ron just shrugged sheepishly. "Wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to say."

Harry sighed. He supposed it wouldn't help anyone to go into too much detail about Fudge's twisted plan, but he didn't want the rest of Gryffindor believing he had married Snape for his money. Or that Snape had some how trapped him just to get a name for himself. "It was for my safety," he told them all. "Because of Voldemort." The spoken name got winces and shudders of horror. "Because of You Know Who," he corrected. "Because Snape can help protect me."

Seamus leaned closer toward them. "Harry, are you sure you can trust him? I mean there must have been someone better than Snape. Chances are he is a Death Eater himself. He's good buddies with Lucius Malfoy you know and despite what the Ministry says that man is just twisted!"

Harry frowned. That really was too much -- he might not like the man, but he did trust him. And admire his courage. Snape had risked his life more times than anyone spying on Voldemort just to keep all of them safe, and this was the thanks he got. He could almost understand why the man took such great delight in tormenting him about his celebrity status.

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry insisted. "None of you may know this, but he's saved my life repeatedly over the last five years."

"Snape!?" Neville and Dean asked in unison. "But Harry he hates you!"

Harry didn't really have an answer to that. They were right. Snape did hate him. "Well, lots of people hate me," he pointed out. "That doesn't exactly automatically make them evil."

"Yes, it does," Seamus insisted.

"Well, not Snape," Harry insisted. "Dumbledore trust him."

They seemed to take that at face value but the looks of sympathy didn't fade any. "God, Harry," Dean shuddered. "I can't imagine how you can stand it. Living with that. . .that. . ..git!"

"So much for breaking curfew any more," Seamus pointed out. "He'll catch you for certain now."

"It will be like one permanent detention," Neville exclaimed.

"That's enough!" Hermione told them all. "This is still Harry's life you're talking about. How would you feel?"

"Horrible!" they said in unison. "That's the point!"

Harry just sighed. This was going to be a long year.

The questions didn't end after that, the other Gryffindors wanted answers of their own, and even a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined them to find out what was going on. Only the Slytherins kept their distance, though the glares they were throwing across the room were chilling. But while Harry was suffocating under the endless questions and whispers, it was nothing to the reception Snape received when he entered the hall. Dead silence followed him, every eye in the place turned toward him as if looking for something different about him, something they'd missed that might have made the Boy Who Lived willing to marry him.

He sat down at the head table, nodded to the other teachers, and then turned his most withering gaze on the entire student body. It had its usual affect, everyone looking swiftly away and going right back to their speculating whispers.

Nervously, Harry glanced toward Snape, noticing that the man was in the process of reading the article on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Judging by the look of fury blazing in his dark eyes, he was not in the least bit pleased by the speculations. Harry couldn't figure out what reason he had to be so angry -- everyone seemed to think he'd come out smelling like a rose. Harry on the other hand had been painted as a mercenary out for money alone. He was not looking forward to the rest of the day.

The questions never stopped, all day long Harry kept having to answer the same things over and over again. And despite sharing similar sentiments, he was getting tired of the expressions of sympathy from his fellow students. Truth of the matter was, as much as he disliked Snape, he wasn't anywhere near as bad as the Dursleys. If he was to be believed, he had no intention of hitting or starving Harry, nor making him wait on him or serve him. And he actually had thanked Harry for that cup of coffee that morning, much to Harry's surprise. Still he was worried about potions class. He had always done poorly at the subject, though he didn't really know why. He tried, hard. It didn't seem to make much of difference however. And Snape made sure his displeasure at that fact was known to all. Add to this that they had double potions with Slytherin, Harry dreaded the class. If it hadn't been for Hermione's tutoring, he would never have passed his potions Owls last year.

By the time potions class began, last class of the day, Harry was already exhausted and ready to blow up at the first person who said one more word to him. As luck would have it, most of the Gryffindors had apparently figured this out -- coupled with the fact that they too hated potions. This time, however, Harry had to endure the snickering and sly looks coming from the Slytherin side of the room. He wondered how Snape had managed to get through the day without killing anyone.

Not well, he guessed judging by the look of the man as he stormed into the room, black robe swirling around him. His face was set in a glare of granite, and everyone in the room instantly fell silent, Slytherin included.

"We will be studying advanced potions in this class in preparations for your NEWTS. This means most of the potions will be volatile this year," Snape announced into the dead quiet. "For those of you whose vocabularies are lacking, that means they're dangerous, unstable if not explosive." This last was directed toward the Gryffindor side of the room. "As such I expect unwavering concentration, and minute attention to detail. I'd like to keep both the death and dismemberment toll down to a minimum, so if I find any student. . .ANY student!" he shot a glare toward the Slytherin side of the room. They all shrank back in surprise. "Doing anything I might construe as horseplay, hyjinnx or simply slacking off, you will become the automatic volunteer test subject for my first years' potions!" The threat was sufficiently terrifying, as they all remembered the disasters they'd created during their own first year. Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortable. "You will find a box on your table filled with highly toxic items. Take out a scroll and identify all of them!"

Harry paired up with Ron, and the two of them began sorting through the items in the box. Hermione identified the most dangerous of the items before either of them could actually injure themselves. Snape hadn't been kidding when he'd said the contents were toxic; a number of the items in the box were actually poisonous to simply touch. Harry did notice that Snape spent the majority of the class period walking around with an unlabeled bottle in his hand -- some sort of cure-all he guessed.

He'd nearly made it through the entire class without mishap when the Slytherins finally decided to make a move. While Snape was distracted with Dean Thomas, Pansy Parkinson picked up an item with a pair of iron tongs and flung it across the room toward Harry. Guessing that what ever it was was dangerous, both Ron and Harry ducked out of the way, as the item landed with a plop on their desk. Harry's chair fell over with a loud clatter.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape shouted. Harry froze as Snape advanced on him. "Is there a reason you have firedrake leaf lying on your desktop despite the fact that I told all of you not to remove it from its protective container?"

Firedrake leaf. Harry winced -- if that had hit either him or Ron it would have blistered their skin. He debated momentarily telling Snape that Pansy had thrown it, but figured he probably wouldn't be believed. Snape never sided with Gryffindor over his Slytherins. "No, sir," he said quietly.

Snape's eyes flashed with anger. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," he snapped. "And clean that mess up!"

The looks of triumph on the faces of the Slytherin was almost enough to make Harry want to fling the firedrake leaf back at them even with Snape looking on. But the last thing he wanted to do was lose more points for Gryffindor. It was the first day of classes and he'd already lost them points.

Ron threw the retreating Snape a look of utter disbelief and contempt as he helped Harry clean the firedrake up from the table. "So much for family loyalty," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Did you expect anything else?" Harry asked just as quietly.

"Not really," the redhead admitted. "At least he didn't give you detention. Wouldn't that just bite! Getting detention from your bond-mate. As if you don't already have to spend enough time with him as it is."

They cleaned up the mess, finishing just as class ended and Snape dismissed them all for the day. But Harry found the Slytherins waiting for him out in the hallway, the looks of malicious glee on their faces turning his stomach.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Malfoy mocked. "You just can't win, can you, Potter? You must be really bad if you're still loosing points after putting out for the teacher."

The sexual innuendo was the last straw. Harry didn't even bother drawing his wand. He simply punched Draco for all he was worth, cracking him hard across the jaw and knocking the other boy down on his ass. The shouts of outrage and glee from the Slytherins and Gryffindors were followed by the drawing of wands on either side, ending in a standoff of the two groups. Draco looked stunned, staring up at Harry from the ground, his lip bleeding, looking as if he could not believe Harry had actually punched him.

But before a single hex could be thrown, the dark shape of Severus Snape loomed over all of them, causing everyone to freeze. "Potter!" Snape growled. "Did you just punch Mr. Malfoy?"

Considering Harry still had his fist clenched, he supposed it was pretty obvious what had happened. He flinched at the anger he saw in Snape's eyes. "Yes, sir," he admitted nervously.

"Why?"

Harry flushed. There was no way in hell he was going to repeat what Draco had said, and everyone there knew it, Malfoy included. The Slytherin climbed to his feet, his eyes just daring Harry to say something. Despite the blood on his lips, he smiled smugly.

"No reason, sir," Harry gritted his teeth as he spoke the words. Dead silence followed his words and everyone looked at Snape. The man's expression was unreadable.

"Report for detention tonight, Mr. Potter." His voice was deadly cold. "Now get out of here all of you." With that he turned and disappeared back into the classroom.

The Slytherins started snickering immediately, the Gryffindors glaring at them.

"Point loss and detention!" Malfoy teased. "Don't worry about it, Potter. Maybe you can work the detention off in trade! Likes you on your knees I imagine."

Harry nearly hit him again, would have if Snape hadn't suddenly reemerged from the classroom, grabbed Malfoy by the throat and slammed the young man up against one of the stone walls of the corridor, his eyes blazing with fury. "Mr. Malfoy! If I ever hear you insulting my bond-mate like that again, I will drag you off this campus and beat the crap out of you myself! Do you understand?!"

Malfoy's face was utterly white, his eyes wide in terror. He nodded fervently, trying to speak around the fist that was clamped around his throat. Satisfied with whatever answer he squeaked out, Snape shoved him aside, knocking him on the ground again. The other Slytherins stood frozen in shock, pale faces staring at Snape as if they didn't recognize him. The Gryffindors stared in equal shock, amazement on their faces. Snape gifted them all with his worst glare yet.

"Clear out, NOW!"

They all fled -- Slytherins in one direction, Gryffindors in the other.

Harry, pulled along after the other Gryffindors by Ron and Hermione, was struck speechless with shock. He couldn't believe what had just happened! Snape had attacked Malfoy to defend not his life but his honor! The man's words rang through his head. My bond-mate. Maybe Arthur Weasley had been right when he'd said that Snape would be honor-bound to protect him.

Harry found himself sitting in the Gryffindor common room before he knew it, not remembering until after the fact that he didn't live there any more. The rest of the Gryffindors were busy telling the other students what had just happened. Harry supposed that by dinner it would be all over the castle.

"I can't believe that just happened!" Seamus exclaimed. "Oh, my god! Did you see the look on Malfoy's face?"

"I can't believe Snape defended you!" Neville exclaimed, staring at Harry with something that looked strangely like awe. "He's never defended anyone before!"

Ron seemed just as speechless as Harry. Hermione on the other hand seemed neither shocked nor surprised. "Well, what else would you expect?" she demanded of all of them. "Weird as it may seem, they are in fact married. And any insult given to Harry is an insult to Snape's family. If he wants to maintain his good name, he has to defend Harry's honor. The two are tied together now."

"I know that," Seamus agreed. "I just didn't guess that Snape did. Or that he'd care. He's never cared about anyone before. And just the idea of the Head of Slytherin defending a Gryffindor!" He shook his head. "It's beyond belief."

"Merlin, who knew the bastard had it in him!" Dean said gleefully. "I thought Malfoy was going to wet himself!"

"Sure is weird," Ron agreed. "Did you know he was going to do something like that Harry?"

Harry stared at his friend in disbelief. "How would I know something like that? The man just gave me detention! Why would I expect him to defend my honor?"

"Yeah, how weird is that?" Seamus exclaimed. "Takes points from you, gives you detention and then threatens to beat the crap out of Malfoy for saying the same garbage he's been spouting for five years!"

"My life's a three ring circus," Harry agreed.

"What do you suppose he's going to make you do for detention?" Dean asked.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and he threw a furious glare at his year mate. The one thing the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had managed to avoid during the course of the day was the sexual innuendo Harry had been dreading; to hear it now after what Malfoy had just said was too much.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise and he raised his hands in defense. "I didn't mean it like that!" he squeaked. "I swear! I just meant it was weird to get detention from your own bond-mate. That's blurring the lines between public and private lives a bit much."

Appeased, Harry leaned back in his chair. "I image not giving me detention would be blurring the lines just as much." He glanced over at Hermione. "I don't suppose there's a rule book about this anywhere? McGonagall seemed to indicate that there were certain customs concerning married students, suggesting that this has happened before."

"It's not common," Hermione told him. "But it has happened -- mostly though the marriages are between two students. Not a student and a teacher. But there have been cases with arranged marriages that are similar to this situation. But I doubt there's any sort of rulebook anywhere. You're going to have figure this out between the two of you."

"Well, it's not like anyone is ever going to accuse Snape of favoritism," Ron told them.

"I'll be lucky if I pass potions at the rate I'm going," Harry agreed. He laughed suddenly. "Won't that make an interesting headline on the front page of Daily Prophet? Boy Who Lives, Bond-Mate of Hogwart's Potions Master, Fails Potions!"

Hermione snorted in disgust. "I doubt you'll fail Potions, Harry," she informed him. "I won't let you. And somehow I doubt Snape will either. If nothing more than to simply avoid just such a headline."

The door to the common room opened suddenly and McGonagall stuck her head inside. "Mr. Potter, could I speak with you for a moment."

"Of course, Professor," Harry said quickly, throwing a curious look at his friends. He followed McGonagall out into the hallway, down the corridor to her private office at the base of Gryffindor tower. Once inside, she motioned Harry to be seated in front of her desk.

"Harry," she began. "In reviewing the board I noticed that you have not only lost points for Gryffindor but received a detention as well. All on the first day of class." She motioned toward the magical placard that graced one wall where the house points for Gryffindor were automatically tallied and totaled. Harry saw his name written in bold letters in two locations.

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I. . ."

"Harry," she interrupted. "It's not the points or the detention I'm overly worried about. No doubt you and many others will do the same throughout the school year. What concerns me is that both demerits came from Professor Snape."

Harry nodded. Surely she didn't think that was unusual. No one took more points away from Gryffindor that Professor Snape.

McGonagall sighed. "Harry, hasn't it occurred to you what a difficult position Severus is in at the moment? You're his bond-mate. Regardless of the fact that you were both forced into this marriage, it is still legally binding. Everything you do reflects on him. And for him to have to be the one to take points from you, or give you detention must weigh heavily on him. I realize this situation is new to you, but the onus of maintaining a professional relationship with you during school hours lies entirely on his shoulders, since he is the figure in authority here. But that does not mean that you do not have an equal responsibility of helping him maintain both propriety and decorum. He can not risk being accused of bias or nepotism, something I have no doubt he will manage with his usual finesse; but it is exceedingly unfair of you to push him in the opposite extreme as well."

Harry felt himself flush at her words. He hadn't actually thought of how odd it must be for Snape to have to maintain his relationship as his teacher. It was probably weirder for him to be married to a sixteen-year-old student than it was for him to be married to a thirty-six-year-old teacher. "I'm sorry, Professor," he apologized. "It's just that there are some situations that are out of my control." Not much he could do if the Slytherins were bound and determined to get him in trouble. They had years of practice setting him up, and Snape knew it.

"I realize that certain other students make some situations awkward," McGonagall agreed tersely. "I'm just suggesting you do your utmost to give Severus no reason at all to question your behavior. For both your sakes."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry nodded in agreement.

"And in the interest of making certain there is no hint of impropriety, any detention you receive from Professor Snape will be served with me." There was a faint twinge of pink in the older woman's cheeks, and Harry suspected she'd heard about what Draco had said. He wondered how the story had gotten around so quickly.

"Was that your idea?" he asked curiously.

But McGonagall shook her head. "No, I spoke with Severus just a few minutes ago. It was his idea. Seems he was concerned about some nasty rumor he'd overheard."

Harry just blushed, not certain at all what to make of the situation.

------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Harry's only just beginning to realize that he knows nothing about Wizarding Society. I had a lot of fun playing around with a set of rules and manners for this story.


	5. Chapter 5 Dark Marks

Chapter 5 -- Dark Marks

Snape was not at dinner, and Harry couldn't help wondering if he was angry with him over the events of the day. He supposed he'd find out that night, since there was no way he could avoid seeing him any more. After dinner, he reported to McGonagall's office to serve out his detention. To his surprise, the woman simple suggested he spend the time doing any homework he had been assigned. Granted McGonagall's detentions were never as horrible as Snape's or Filch's -- but she did usually assign students some unpleasant task to perform. When half way through detention McGonagall offered Harry a tray of sweet pastries he began to grow suspicious that the woman might in fact feel sorry for him. But whether it was because of the detention he'd gotten due to Malfoy's callousness, or something deeper and related to the information she'd learned about the Dursleys, he didn't know. He wasn't certain he liked it. He'd survived sixteen years without anyone ever feeling sorry for him -- he didn't need it now.

She dismissed him after the hour, bidding him a kindly goodnight. And rather than make his way into the Gryffindor common room like he desperately wanted to, Harry made his way down the long staircases toward the dungeons. Following the path he'd learned the night before, he soon found himself standing in front of the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and the large green snake. Both figures smiled at him, nodding in a surprisingly polite manner. "Severus' new bond-mate," the snake said to Salazar in Parseltongue. Harry blushed at that.

"Pity he's a Gryffindor," Salazar replied back in Parseltongue.

"There's nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor," Harry informed them both, also speaking in Parseltongue. Both snake and man were startled by this, and smiled in pleasure.

"Most interesting!" Salazar remarked. "A better match than I had guessed. May you have a long life together!"

Harry just blushed again. "Eldorado," he informed them both, and the portrait swung open, letting Harry into the Potions Master's chambers.

Stepping inside, he saw Snape sitting by the fire, not reading or drinking, but staring moodily into the flames. Not at all certain what sort of reception to expect, Harry took a couple of hesitant steps toward him. "Professor?" he asked quietly.

Snape did not answer him. Despite the fact that neither the point loss nor the detention had been his fault, Harry supposed he was expected to apologize. "I'm sorry about what happened today," he offered quietly.

"And what, pray tell, are you apologizing for, exactly?" Snape asked in a low, quiet voice. He didn't look up from the fire, and his expression never changed, something that made Harry decidedly nervous. "The fact that the entire Wizarding World seems to think I have some how manipulated their hero into marrying me for the sake of my own good name, or that you would only agree to such a terrible fate to get your hands on my money? Or perhaps you are apologizing for the endless stream of questions and speculations we were both subjected to throughout the entire day? Or the looks of loathing and contempt coming from the Gryffindors, or the foul sexual innuendoes coming from the Slytherins? Or perhaps you wish to apologize for the Howler I received in the staff room from Sirius Black who threatened to do things to me I shan't repeat if I so much as looked at you inappropriately?"

Okay, Snape had definitely had a worse day than he had. "Actually, I was just going to apologize for the point loss and the detention," he admitted sheepishly.

Some emotion flickered across Snape's features and the man shot him an unreadable look. "Oh," he said simply, then shrugged. "As awkward as that situation was, taking points away from Gryffindor and seeing Malfoy with a split lip were the only moments of pleasure I had all day."

Unable to help himself, Harry smiled. "Which would probably explain my need to apologize for them."

For a moment, he almost thought Snape was going to laugh. "I'm sure," he agreed dryly. He winced suddenly, clutching at his left forearm and muttering some curse under his breath.

Harry frowned, stepping forward. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Snape bit out between gritted teeth. But now that Harry had seen the wince, he noticed that Snape looked exhausted, his skin paler than normal.

"It's Voldemort, isn't it?" Harry stated. "He's summoned you!"

"Hardly matters now, Mr. Potter," Snape reminded him, eyes closed, lips still pinched in pain. His hand had tightened knuckle-white around his forearm as if trying to squeeze away the mark hidden beneath his robes.

"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked. He knew the Dark Mark grew progressively more painful the longer a summons was ignored. He hadn't bothered to wonder what might happen to Snape now that he no longer intended to answer the summons. Just how long could Voldemort torture him with it –- and how bad would the pain get?

"Not your concern, Potter," Snape informed him. Harry could see the struggle the man endured to control the pain he must be experiencing.

"Actually, it is my concern," Harry informed him, making a decision and kneeling down in front of the man. With his eyes closed, Snape didn't see what he was doing until Harry touched his arm, pushing the sleeve of his robe up to reveal the dark mark. The mark was black as night, and the skin around it was fiery red and swollen.

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded, eyes glaring.

"This is my fault," Harry told him.

Snape snatched his arm away from him. "It's not your fault, Potter!"

"If it wasn't for me this wouldn't be happening!" Harry shouted back at him.

"You're right!" Snape snarled. "Instead I'd probably be playing the good little Death Eater and suffering the Cruciatus because Voldemort was bored and couldn't find any Muggles to torture."

"If you're trying to shock me, save your breath!" Harry told him, anger boiling inside him. "I've seen what he does, remember? Now just answer the damn question! How long has this been going on?"

"Don't take that tone with me!" Snape roared at him.

Unable to control himself, Harry reared back and kicked the leg of Snape's chair. "I hate you!"

"Good!" Snape shouted back, and then bit back a strangled moan of pain as he clamped his hand over the dark mark once again.

Despite his rage, the sight of Snape in pain twisted something inside Harry, and he couldn't bear to watch. Drawing his wand in desperation, he summoned Dobby to the room.

"Dobby, get the Headmaster, please," he told the little elf. "Tell him he needs to come here immediately."

"Yes, Harry Potter, I is going immediately!" Dobby assured him, vanishing an instant later.

"What in hell did you do that for?" Snape asked bitterly.

Harry didn't answer. Instead he simply stood back and waited, watching as Snape squeezed his eyes shut in pain, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his arm as he tried to stop the agony flaring from the mark. Harry felt raw inside, the whole situation seeming unreal. A moment later he saw the flames of the fire change color as floo powder was mixed with them. Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace.

"Harry, what's wrong?" the old man asked worriedly. Harry just pointed soundlessly toward Snape. Dumbledore took one look at the situation and understood immediately.

"Severus, how long has this been going on?" the old man asked, his voice firm and demanding.

"A few hours," Snape admitted without hesitation.

"Come with me," Dumbledore ordered, reaching out to help the man stand. "I have an idea that might help."

Snape went without protesting, and Harry followed them to the door. Dumbledore just smiled gently at him. "Stay here, Harry," he ordered. "We'll be back before too long. You should probably try to get some sleep."

Recognizing a dismissal when he heard one, Harry stood back and watched them leave the room. A moment later he was alone in Snape's chambers. They felt strangely empty without the other man's presence.

Not certain what to do with himself, Harry wandered around the rooms, looking at things, his mind elsewhere. Wandering into the bedroom, he noticed a letter waiting for him on his nightstand. Curious as to why it hadn't been delivered to him in the Great Hall, he went to pick it up, recognizing Sirius' handwriting on the envelope. He wondered if it had come the same time Snape's howler had.

Opening it eagerly, he read the note his godfather had sent him.

Dear Harry,

Dumbledore has informed me of the events of last night -- rather than the fiction the papers printed this morning. I am so sorry this has happened. I can't begin to express my remorse that I can not be there for you, or that I could not prevent the things the Dursleys did to you. I knew they treated you poorly, but I had no idea it had been so bad. If I had, I would have taken you with me that first summer regardless of the legal risks. At the very least I would have sent you to live with Remus. Had I not believed you were at least safe with the Dursleys, I would never have left you there.

I understand the necessity of the marriage -- Dumbledore was right, you cannot risk leaving Hogwarts, and Fudge would get you killed in a matter of days. Of that I have no doubt. But I cannot believe that the most suitable candidate they could find for you was SNAPE? Why not Hermione or Ron, or one of Ron's brothers for that matter? Or what about that girl you liked? Cho something? Rest assured that if Snape does anything to upset or hurt you I will see that he's punished! Do not let that bastard push you around or upset you in any manner. You have no obligations or loyalties to him no matter what anyone tells you! I'll be coming to visit as soon as I can. Until then, take care of yourself, and if you need anything send for me or Mooney.

Love,

Padfoot

The letter, despite everything, actually succeeded in making him feel somewhat better. Figuring he'd better send an answer back to Sirius as soon as possible he sat down at the desk in the library and composed a short note to Sirius, assuring him that he was fine and that he shouldn't worry too much about him. Then he set it aside to deliver in the morning.

After showering, Harry climbed into bed, setting his glasses and wand down on the nightstand he supposed had somehow become 'his'. He couldn't help wondering what precisely Sirius' howler to Snape must have said, and he found himself lying awake in bed dreaming up the words Sirius must have used. He imagined it had been great.

It was nearly an hour later before Snape returned, going straight into the bathroom to change. He emerged a while later, dressed as he had been last night in a pair of pajama bottoms, though this time he had his nightshirt already on over them. As he moved around the room extinguishing some of the candles, Harry's eyes were drawn to his forearm. Several coils of what looked to be silver wire were wound around his forearm, covering the Dark Mark.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked quietly as Snape approached the bed.

Snape nodded tightly. "Albus found a way of blocking the pain," he informed him as he climbed in beside Harry.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement and rolled away, turning his back to Snape. To his surprise the man spoke again. "Why did you say it was your fault?" he sounded more curious than angry.

For a moment Harry was tempted to tell the man he was not accustomed to chatting while in bed. Instead he simply opted for the truth. "If I had killed Voldemort, he couldn't hurt anyone else."

"And you think it is your responsibility to kill him?" Snape asked.

"One of us has to die," Harry replied, staring at the shadows lingering around the bed curtains.

A strong hand suddenly closed around his shoulder and pulled him around, pushing him flat onto his back, pinned to the bed. In the darkness he could see little more than a shadow looming over him, but he could feel the heat of Snape's angry glare. His pulse inexplicably raced. "What in hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means either I kill him or he'll kill me!" Harry told him, a basic fact of life he'd come to accept. Snape's hand felt hot against his shoulder. "Either way one of us dies, and in the mean time everyone else suffers for it!" Not to mention the suffering that would follow if Voldemort was the one who got lucky first.

"People suffer because Voldemort is a sick, evil monster who has been doing terrible things long before you were ever born. And before him it was the Wizard Grindelwald, and Dumbledore was no more responsible for his crimes than you are for Voldemort's. Take responsibility for your own actions, but don't take the blame for Voldemort's!"

"My own actions consisted of letting Peter Pettigrew live when I should have killed him," Harry said bitterly. "Thanks to that one stupid action Sirius is still on the run, Cedric Diggory was murdered, and Voldemort was raised from the dead."

"You're not a killer," Snape told him. "And no one expects you to be!"

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Sixty-three Aurors died defending me last year. And forty-seven Death Eaters died when I took the Eye of Odin from Voldemort. You're right, I'm not a killer; I'm a mass murderer! And if I had it to do all over again I'd kill Wormtail and spare myself the sheer numbers!"

"Those were causalities of war," Snape's voice was harsh with emotion, thought which ones Harry couldn't guess. "And you were in no way responsible for any of them. Murder is taking a knife in your own hand and plunging it into someone's living heart. There is a difference! A huge difference! And one I hope you will never know. And even if you had killed Pettigrew, I have no doubt Voldemort would have found someone else to bring him back."

"Then maybe there are just somethings that are enviable," Harry said bitterly. He shook off Snape's hand, which still rested on his shoulder, and rolled away from him again. "If that's the case I guess we all better hope that it's inevitable that I learn how to kill sooner rather than later."

Snape didn't reply and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears he felt stinging them. He wouldn't cry. He never had before, and he wasn't going to start now.

----------------------

Snape woke several hours later, startled awake by the strangled cry of fear beside him. Turning, he saw Harry thrashing again on the bed, his sleeping face twisted in agony as he fought with an invisible attacker. Cursing under his breath, Snape reached for his end table, scrambling to find another vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it, not after promising the boy last night that he would have as much as he needed. And after the events of the evening and the conversation they had both fallen asleep to, he should have known there would be nightmares forthcoming.

Finding the bottle, Snape reached for Harry, shaking him awake, calling his name softly. Once again the boy flinched away from him, so violently this time that he threw himself out of bed and slid off the side, landing on the cold floor with a muffled oomph. Severus scrambled quickly out of bed himself and made his way around to the boy's side.

Sweating and dishelved, but thankfully awake, Harry stared at him in alarm, breath coming in desperate gasps. Not thinking, Snape just caught hold of his shoulders, pried the stopper of the vial off with his teeth, and held the glass to the boy's lips. "Drink!" he commanded.

Harry downed the contents without question, making no move to escape his embrace. Once the vial was empty the boy flushed and looked down in either embarrassment or shame.

"I'm sorry," he told the boy. "I had meant to give that to you before you fell asleep."

"Not your concern," Harry informed him tightly, repeating back the very words Snape had said to him that evening when the mark on his arm had been burning. Taken aback, Snape was momentarily at a loss for words, wondering if Harry had said those exact words on purpose. Guessing he was feeling vulnerable and thus defensive, he concluded that he probably had. Clever Gryffindor, he thought to himself, almost saying it out loud and awarding house points.

"Actually it is my concern," he said mildly, determined to turn the ruse around. The boy looked up at him in surprise, his eyes narrowing. "Can't sleep with you thrashing about like that," Snape explained, pointedly steering the conversation away from any thought of blame or responsibility.

Harry snorted in disgusted amusement, shaking his head. "Is this where I tell you again that I hate you?"

"If it makes you feel better," Snape agreed. Noticing that the boy had begun shivering, he pulled him to his feet. "Back in bed, before the potion knocks you out."

Harry didn't protest as Severus helped him back into the bed. As Severus climbed in beside him, he noticed the boy's eyes drifting shut, the potion taking affect. "What did you dream about, Harry?" he asked softly, knowing he was half asleep already.

"The dead," he answered. "It's always the dead." And then he was out like a light, safe in a dreamless slumber.

The light from the lone candle Snape had left burning flickered off the silver bands of the wire wrapped around his arm as Severus reached out to touch the scar on Harry's forehead. They both bore their share of scars, he realized. His own might be older and more numerous, but Harry's went far deeper. It really hadn't occurred to him how much they might actually have in common. But the conversation he'd had with Harry before falling asleep had been alarmingly similar to conversations he'd had himself with Albus Dumbledore. Maybe the old man had had a point when he'd pushed them together. Pity they disliked each other so much -- he almost wanted to hold Harry in his arms and keep them both safe from the evils of the world.

Sighing he settled down beside his bond-mate and watched him sleep, eventually drifting off himself without ever noticing that he still had one hand on the boy's warm shoulder.

---------------------------

Author's Note: Regarding the conversation about Harry killing Voldemort or being killed by him -- this was all written long before Book 5 came out and so I will never mention any real reference to the prophecy. To me the prophecy seemed like a no-brainer, and Harry will view the situation in much the same light. Voldemort hates him, Voldemort wants to kill him and everyone around him, so in order to stay alive and keep everyone he loves alive, Harry has no choice but to kill Voldemort. No prophecy necessary.

Regarding the silver bands on Snape's mark -- it seems to me that it's just as likely that a good shot of morphine in the arm would block the pain (or at least make you not care that you're feeling it). If Muggles could potentially come up with a solution, how much easier would it be for the Wizarding World -- especially someone like Albus Dumbledore? He hasn't removed the mark, merely warded it so that Snape can handle the pain better.


	6. Chapter 6 Life with Snape

Author's Note: Several people asked me about Harry's visions and whether or not I was going to mention them. As far as I know in canon, Harry's visions really began in his 5th year and are a direct result of his scar (we may yet discover it is really a Horcrux). This story is only canon through Book 4 and I have no intention of mentioning the concept of a Horcrux. Harry will have visions (of a sort), but they will be a direct result of something that happened to Harry during the 5th year I invented for him.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed my story! I really appreciate your comments and encouragement.

Chapter 6 -- Life with Snape

To Severus surprise Harry fixed him a cup of coffee in the morning as he had yesterday, this time making himself a cup of his own as he sat down to look over a letter he was preparing to mail off. Severus thanked him, somewhat baffled by his behavior.

"You're welcome," the boy said simply as he took a sip of his own coffee. He watched as the boy made a face at the taste, frowned, and then shrugged, taking another sip.

"I do have tea if you'd prefer," Severus pointed out to him.

"Tomorrow," Harry agreed. "This stuff taste like crap."

Severus had to bite back the impulse to deduct house points for the comment. Instead he headed toward his office, intent on getting some work done before the day started. He was stopped by the sudden flurry of wings through one of the owl entry holes. Looking up he spied several owls flying into the room, all laden down with heavy envelopes and packages. Harry stood in surprise as several more owls followed the first few, more following them.

"Expecting a delivery?" he asked.

Severus shook his head, baffled himself by the sudden influx of letters. They couldn't all be howlers from Black! He moved toward one of the owls, picking up the letter the bird dropped at his feet. To his surprise it was addressed to Severus and Harry Potter-Snape. He didn't recognize the seal on the back.

"Potter-Snape?" Harry demanded, and Severus looked up quickly. Harry had picked up a handful of the other letters and was looking at the envelopes. He sounded both disgusted and outraged. "What's this all about?"

"Wedding gifts, if I'm not mistaken," Severus informed him, tearing open one of the envelopes and reading the card inside. "Apparently a Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle wish us long life and happiness and have sent a fourteenth century silver tea service to Snape Manor to commemorate the joyous occasion."

"Snape Manor?" Harry asked curiously. "So there really is a Snape Manor? What color is it?"

Severus glared at him. Sometimes Gryffindors made no sense at all. "You realize of course we're going to have to send thank you cards to all these idiots, don't you?" he demanded. "No doubt every Wizarding family in the world will send the Boy Who Lived a wedding gift and we're going to have to reply to all of them."

Harry looked at the growing pile of letters and packages. "Suppose any of them are hexed?" he asked.

Severus' eyes widened in alarm; no doubt some of them were from the families of Death Eaters. "Oh, bloody hell! Don't touch any of them!"

Conjuring a box he began levitating the letters into it, summoning a couple of house elves in the process and telling them to reroute all their mail to the Ministry where it could be properly sorted and scanned. He was tossing several more letters into the box when he noticed the handwriting on one was strangely familiar. Freezing he turned it over, staring at the seal on the back -- a red rose with a serpent twined around it. Momentarily stunned, he nearly dropped it.

He was pleased to note that his hands were steady as he broke the seal and opened the envelope. He read the short note inside with a firm grip on his emotions, forcing equal amounts of bitterness, anger and pain from rearing their ugly heads. His eyes lingered on the invitation noted at the bottom of the letter, and the signature that followed it.

"What's that?" Harry's voice broke through his composure.

"Not your concern!" he snarled, and then instantly regretted the response. So much for controlling his emotions.

He realized a moment later that not only was he repeating back the very words Harry had mocked him with last night, but that this time they were also utterly untrue. He looked up to see Harry's face go white with anger. But rather than saying anything Harry just pushed past him and strode toward the door.

"Wait," he sighed. Harry stopped, but did not turn. "That was untrue. This does concern you." Much as he hated to admit it, there were certain personal facts that he was going to have to share with Harry Potter. No way of avoiding it forever.

Harry turned, his green eyes wary but no longer quite as angry. He still said nothing however.

"It's a letter from my brothers," Severus explained, and then because he knew this was not going to be an easy conversation, he moved toward the couch and sat down. Harry joined him a moment later, sitting across from in one of the armchairs.

"What do your brothers have to do with me?" Harry asked.

Severus smiled bitterly. "They want to meet you. Want to meet the young man who has single handily returned our family name to good standing."

"And something about that makes you angry with me?" Harry demanded.

Surprised by his statement, Severus looked into his eyes, seeing years of hurt there. No doubt his Muggle family took every little slight and family squabble out on him. "I'm not angry at you," he assured him. "I'm angry at. . ." he broke off uncertain how to answer that question. "I haven't spoke to either of my brothers in nearly eighteen years."

"Why not?"

"Because my brothers have never forgiven either me or my father for tarnishing the family name in the first place," Severus explained simply, though there was nothing at all simple about it. Nothing at all in that statement to explain years of pain and betrayal and angry unforgivable words between brothers that could never be taken back.

Harry looked startled by the admission. "Your father was a Death Eater?" he asked. Severus nodded. "And you joined the Death Eaters to be with him?"

He had no doubt that the boy had wondered about his history and how he had come to be a spy in the first place. "No, Mr. Potter," he told him. "I joined the Death Eaters so that I could get close enough to my father to kill him." Green eyes widened in shock, and Severus threw Harry a twisted smile. "Like my brothers, I couldn't forgive my father either. He was our blood, our responsibility, and every crime he committed was ours to answer for."

"You killed your own father?"

"No," Severus shook his head. "Thankfully I was spared that little indignity by Lucius Malfoy. Seems they both fancied the same mistress and dueled over her. My father lost. Since I was unable to reclaim our family honor myself, I went to Albus Dumbledore and offered to spy for him instead."

"But your brothers never believed you?" Harry guessed, too clever by half.

"We never really had a particularly long conversation on the subject," Severus informed him. "There wasn't much opportunity for me to convince them of my guilt or innocence one way or another."

"But they must have believed you after the trial!" Harry protested.

Severus looked up sharply, pinning Harry with a sharp glare. What in God's name could the boy know about that trial? He'd never said anything, and he doubled very much Albus had discussed it with the boy.

Harry flushed and looked down. "I looked into Dumbledore's pensieve a few years ago. I saw some of the trial. That's how I knew you were spying for him in the first place."

"That man leaves the damnedest things lying about!" Severus cursed, feeling strangely vulnerable at the thought that Harry might have witnessed his youthful torture in the hands of the Dementors and the shameful trial that followed.

"Didn't your brothers believe you then?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Didn't matter," Severus explained. "The damage was already done. And judging by the terseness of the letter, I doubt they believe me even now. But they're not willing to pass up this opportunity. The hand of friendship they are extending is to you, not me."

Harry frowned at that, and if he heard the bitterness in Severus tone, his expression did not betray the fact. "May I see the letter?" he asked.

Shrugging, Severus handed it over to the young man, wondering why he even cared. Harry read it, his face thoughtful. "Since the invitation is really meant for me instead of you, would you mind if I wrote the reply?" he asked.

Severus' heart lurched. Surely the boy wasn't interested in befriending his family? He fought back the flare of hurt that thought sent through him. But then why should he expect anything more from James Potter's son?

He stiffened, composing his features, determined not to betray even the slightest bit of emotion. "Do as you like," he informed him coldly.

Harry nodded in satisfaction, smiling as he rose to his feet, letter still in his hand. As he made his way toward the door, Severus found he couldn't simply let it go at that; the sting of betrayal was just too sharp not to be twisted a bit. "If I may ask," he said tersely. "What precisely are you going to say to them?"

Harry paused at the door. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find some appropriately flowery way of phrasing it, but the gist of it will be that they should all go screw themselves."

As luck would have it, the door closed behind Harry long before any other students had the opportunity to witness their dour Potions Master roaring in laughter.

----------------------------

Surprisingly the two of them managed to get through the next two weeks without killing each other. Stories of Severus' threat to Draco Malfoy had apparently made the rounds and the rest of the students were careful to keep their comments to themselves after that. Classes went on as usual, though Harry did make an effort not to give Severus reason to reprimand him in class. Didn't always work however -- but then they both supposed it would look odd if things changed too much. As it was Severus was just as likely these days to take points from Slytherin as he was from Gryffindor -- though he did enjoy the latter far more than the former.

Harry spent his free time with his friends, and Severus went on with life in much his usual manner, minus the duties he'd once had as a Death Eater spy. At night Harry took the potions of Dreamless Sleep Draught that Severus brewed for him in his lab, and Severus kept the silver warding bands around his own Dark Mark.

Harry tended to avoid Severus' company as much as possible, but some nights he sat in the living room with him and did his homework while Severus read or prepped for his own classes the next day. And while they didn't precisely get along, Severus had to admit it wasn't entirely unpleasant to have company. At least he'd gotten past his desire to strangle the boy every few minutes.

To his surprise he received a second letter from his brothers the following Friday. This one, addressed to both Severus and Harry, was far more politely written. They made a point of saying something that might vaguely be construed as an apology toward Severus, and included him in the invitation openly this time. This time his sister had also added a postscript to the letter, begging Severus to accept the invitation, as she desperately wanted to see him again.

Severus frowned, wondering what Harry had said to them in his reply. Must have been interesting, and he regretted now that he hadn't asked to see it. It felt odd to think that Harry Potter might have actually defended him to his family -- also felt oddly nice, a fact that worried Severus. But he pushed it all aside as he considered the issue.

It was late Saturday morning before he'd made up his mind and he went in search of Harry. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he had no doubt that the Gryffindors were planning their usual jaunt to Honeydukes that afternoon. He hoped he could catch Harry before he left.

He found him sitting with Ron, Hermione and Neville Longbottom in the Great Hall, all of them gathered around a Wizarding chess set. Ron Weasley was about two moves away from checkmating Harry. All four of them looked up in surprise when Severus approached, Neville turning a pale sickly color.

"Harry," he greeted, purposely using the boy's first name, something that seemed to shock all four of the students. "I have a personal errand to run in Hogsmeade this morning. I was hoping you would be willing to accompany me . . .if you are available, of course." He tried to phrase his words in such a way that the boy understood it was a request and not an order. This was the first time he'd attempted to infringe upon Harry's free time. He saw Ron's look of outrage, and hastened to add, "It won't take more than an hour or two. You will have ample time for any other outing afterwards."

"Alright," Harry agreed, his expression unreadable. He nodded to his friends. "I'll meet you guys at Honeydukes this afternoon."

They just nodded in agreement, and Harry followed Severus out of the Hall. As they walked away, Severus heard Neville moaning to Ron and Hermione, "Oh, poor Harry! It's like having detention all the time!"

He snarled to himself at the thought, making a note to find someway of giving that little fool detention. Glancing at Harry he thought he detected the slightest smirk and almost abandoned this idea entirely. He knew his company was not that enjoyable, but it certainly wasn't like having detention! He went out of his way to make detention as miserable as possible, but he'd been as pleasant as possible to Potter in the evenings they were forced to spend together. He could only imagine what Harry and his friends must say about him behind his back.

Severus got a carriage in the castle courtyard and they took it down the winding road toward Hogsmeade. Harry, sitting opposite Severus in the cab, stared curiously at him. "So what is this errand all about?"

Severus frowned, not at all certain how to go about explaining any of this. "I received another invitation to dinner from my family. And while I couldn't care less about my brothers, I would like to see my sister again. She has at least made an attempt over the years to speak with me -- despite the fact that her husband insisted she break off all ties with me. Now of course he's changed his mind, and she has requested that I at least attempt to reconcile with my brothers. You are of course under no obligation to accompany me, but I was hoping you would agree to it."

"A whole houseful of Snapes?" Harry asked.

Severus acknowledged the jest with a mocking smile. "Would it help if I assured you that we are nothing alike?"

"Yes, actually," the boy actually had the cheek to inform him. "I'll go. But that still doesn't explain what sort of errand we are running this morning."

Ah, now to really insult the boy. "We're going to Torsond. You need some appropriate clothing. Those rags the Dursleys supplied you with are unsuitable." He glanced pointedly at the jeans the boy was currently wearing. Most of the students chose to dress out of uniform during the weekend, and while the jumper Harry was wearing -- made he believed by Mrs. Weasley -- was somewhat tolerable the jeans were not. Aside from being torn in several places, they were also several sizes too large for Harry. He'd glanced inside Harry's wardrobe earlier that week and noticed that aside for the school uniforms, the rest of his possessions seemed to include a couple of ancient t-shirts, two pairs of torn jeans, and a plaid shirt he believed the boy had been wearing since first year.

Harry flushed at the criticism. "It's not as if I can't buy my own clothes!" he protested.

"And yet you have not," Severus pointed out.

Harry frowned. "It never seemed important. I wear a uniform most of the time."

"And what about during the summer?" Severus asked. "You certainly do not wear the Hogwarts uniform during your summers in Muggle Surrey?"

"Considering I spend the summer locked up in a small room, it's never really mattered what I was wearing," Harry told him pointedly.

Severus frowned at that. He had not taken that into consideration. Nor did he like these reminders of the boy's home life. Sickened him to think of it, and he made a point to speak to Albus about having something done about the Dursleys. Their behavior was unconscionable and should not go unpunished.

"So where are we going again?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Torsond," Severus repeated, giving him the name of one of the finest clothiers in all the Wizarding World. He'd have a suitable wardrobe made for Harry by the end of the week.

Harry seemed to think about that for a moment. "Isn't that place kind of expensive?"

"With good reason," Severus informed him. They might be expensive, but they were worth every penny. Only the finest materials were used. "I will of course be paying for the purchases."

"I have money!" Harry protested.

"Good for you," Severus frowned, glancing out the carriage window. "I will still be paying. I am responsible for your financial support."

"Why are you responsible?" Harry demanded, his voice darkening with anger.

Somewhat surprised at the boy's tone of voice, Severus glared at him. "What?"

Harry's brow furrowed in exasperation. "Why are you the one responsible for me? Why aren't I responsible for your financial support?"

Snape stared at him. Certainly the boy had gone daft; might explain his marks in potions. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Harry's eyes flashed. "What's ridiculous about it? It's a legitimate question. Is it because I'm younger? Just because I'm younger I automatically have to be the housewife?"

Housewife! Not daft, the boy was crazy. But what ever it was, he certainly seemed to have gotten himself quite worked up over the subject. "This is some sort of Muggle thing, isn't it?"

"Just answer the question!"

"It has nothing to do with your age!" Snape glared back at him. "It's because I'm financially set and you are not. You haven't even taken your NEWTS yet. And even if you had, even if you were fifty years my senior, if our financial situation were still the same as it is now, I would still be responsible for your support. I have more money than you. A great deal more money than you. That makes our financial support my responsibility."

But Harry had folded his arms and was glaring at him in stubborn outrage. It occurred to Severus that perhaps this was some sort of weird Muggle pride thing. He'd have to find a way of personalizing the argument a bit more. "Haven't you ever wondered why Percy Weasley has not yet married the lovely Penelope Clearwater?"

The non-sequitor seemed to catch Harry off guard. "Just figured he wasn't ready yet."

Snape snorted in disgust. "A Weasley, not ready for marriage? Right. He hasn't married her because while she is not rich, she does have a nice dowry. And until he can financially match that dowry with money of his own, he won't marry her."

Far from appeasing the boy it just seemed to bring his anger back full force. "Because he's the man and she's the woman! Which makes him the one in charge."

Ah, Severus thought he saw the problem now. Apparently he was associating their financial inequalities with some sort of gender identification. "Because he wants to have children, you ridiculous boy!" he corrected. "Being a Weasley, he probably wants to have lots of children! And if he's not the one financially responsible for their family, they can't have children and expect to maintain any sort of social standing in Wizarding society."

"What do children have to do with it?"

Severus sighed. "Regardless of what ever gender roles are played in Muggle society, in Wizarding society a mother's finances are never used to supplement the family's income. They are kept for her private use, but mostly they are set aside as her children's inheritance. No self-respecting wizard would ever touch his children's inheritance."

Perplexed Harry tugged at a lock of his hair, unknowingly covering up his scar more completely. "I still don't see why that means you. . ."

Severus cut him off. "Regardless of gender, the partner in a bond-marriage who is the most financially stable is responsible for the financial support of the family. If a male and female bond-couple want to have children, then the male must make certain he is the one considered the most financially stable. In our case, since children are not an issue, it is a simply a matter of mathematics. I have more money than you; therefore I'm responsible for our finances. Do you understand now or should I explain it using smaller words?"

Harry glared at him. "Fine, I get it. Someone could have explained this earlier, you know?"

"Perhaps if you applied yourself more or took a Muggle Studies class," Severus suggested mockingly.

"I do apply myself. And Muggle Studies is useless!" Harry shot back hotly. "Neville said that last week they learned how to use a toaster!"

Not at all certain what that had to do with the topic of conversation, Severus gave Harry a withering glare. "And, what pray tell, is a toaster?"

Harry's lips twisted in a mocking smile. "You take a piece of bread, you stick it in a slot and you push a lever, the bread comes out cooked. Any five-year-old Muggle knows how to use a toaster."

"Having never been a five-year-old Muggle, I wouldn't know," Severus informed him coolly. Didn't sound like Muggle studies was particularly useful, but then he supposed that was the point Harry was trying to make in his round about way.

"What happens when I pass my NEWTS and get a job?" Harry asked suddenly. "If I make more money than you, does that make me in charge then?"

Severus snorted at the thought. Apparently the boy didn't understand just how wealthy a family he'd married into. "I doubt very much you'll ever make more money than I do."

That challenging gleam returned to those green eyes. "How do you know? Do you have any idea how much money a Professional Quidditch player makes? I'm thinking of going pro."

Severus nearly groaned out loud at the thought. "I might have known you'd go into something as frivolous as that!"

Harry grinned cheekily at him. "Just think, you'll be the only Potions Master married to a professional Quidditch player."

Severus stared at him. The boy was actually teasing him. Two weeks ago he would have laid good money that Harry Potter was terrified of him -- now he was teasing him in such a manner that indicated he was actually hoping to rile him up, make him angry. "You're determined to torment me, aren't you?"

Harry thought about that a moment and then just grinned. "Well, I did learn from the best," he explained. "Had to get something out of all those potions classes."

The carriage jolted to a stop as they reached their destination and the boy leaped out. "You could try studying potions," Severus muttered to his retreating form. But of course that was probably asking too much.

The proprietor of Torsand came out to meet them as they entered the shop, greeting Severus by name. He bought most of his own clothes here -- all save the robes and tunics he wore during school hours. Considering how many times he found himself doused in exploding potions, he saw no point in ruining anything of quality.

"Marius," Severus greeted the man with a polite nod.

Marius grinned warmly at Harry. "And this must be Harry!" he exclaimed in delight. Severus resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Everyone in the Wizarding World knew Harry Potter. "Ah, come for some new clothes have you young man?"

Harry glanced down at his jeans. "I guess," he sighed. "Preferably something that's in my actual size. I'm actually partial to the colors orange and purple."

Both Severus and Marius stared at him in horror. "I'm kidding!" he told them both. "Red and gold actually."

"Ah, a Gryffindor," Marius said relieved. "Of course!"

In a matter of moments Marius had Harry on a stand, measuring tape in hand as a magical scroll automatically marked down the measurements he called out. Severus sat down to one side and watched in silence. Once the measurements were taken, Marius began showing Harry bolt after bolt of material -- velvets, silks, and brocades -- draping some of the cloth across Harry shoulders to see how they matched his own coloring. Severus found himself smiling in amusement -- the boy might like the Gryffindor colors, but the Slytherin green suited him better. Brought out his eyes.

He said very little himself, letting Harry make the majority of the decision, though he did inform Marius that he wanted an entire wardrobe -- breeches, tunics, doublets, robes, cloaks, boots, riding breeches. Harry's eyes widened as he rattled off the list of items. The more he listed, the more he thought of -- stopping himself when he realized he was actually starting to enjoy himself a bit too much. Picturing what Harry might look like in riding breeches was going a bit too far into that realm of lustful thoughts he'd promise himself he'd avoid at all cost.

When they left, his purse was a great deal lighter, and Harry was a great deal more baffled by his behavior than before. "I'm going to look ridiculous," Harry complained.

"Probably," Severus lied with a smirk. The boy would look lovely. Far too lovely for someone like him to be keeping company with, but he'd be damned if he ever informed him of that. "But at least it will all fit properly."

Harry spotted his friends waiting for him down the street in front of Honeydukes. He waved to them, then paused before heading off to join them. "Just out of curiosity," he asked. "All this money your family has. . .who's the heir?"

"I am," Severus informed him -- something that had continued to gall his brothers for years.

"So Snape Manor is. . . ?"

"Mine," Severus agreed.

The smile that lit the boy's face was not one of happiness but of mischief. "What color was it again?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Why are you obsessed with its color?"

But Harry just grinned impishly. "No reason," he shrugged, and then raced off to join his friends. Severus rode back to the castle alone.

The following Monday afternoon Severus found himself wandering restlessly around his classroom after his final class -- Harry's class -- which had gone abysmally poorly. He'd taken points away from Harry, Ron and Dean after the three of them had nearly succeeded in blowing up the classroom with their fire oil potion. Days like these just reminded him of why he disliked the boy so much -- he suspected the feeling was mutual.

Too restless to stay still, he retired instead to one of the castle salles where he found Madam Hooch working with rapiers. She was actually one of the best swordsmen he'd met in a long time -- and she happily spent an hour dueling with him, something he hadn't indulged in a while.

All the children of wealthy, pureblood Wizarding families were taught various forms of fencing as children. He'd never care for it much as a child, being a skinny, gangly boy, and had only learned what he needed to learn to appease his father. But several years of torment from James Potter, Sirius Black and the other Gryffindors had eventually awakened Severus' more vicious nature. He'd joined his fellow Slytherins in their private fencing salles, eventually learning to enjoy the violence of the sport. He had his share of scars from bloody duels, and had given his own share right back -- but while his peers like Lucius Malfoy reveled in the blood, for him it was now more a discipline and a means to work out frustrations.

Later he ate in the Great Hall, then retired to his own chambers where he sat in front of the fire trying to read a book. Far from having cured his restlessness, the exercise had only increased it, and he found himself watching Harry doing his homework at the small table in the corner.

"How was your day?" He couldn't believe he'd asked the question. Nor apparently could Harry for he looked up in surprise.

"Fine," he replied, an odd expression on his face. His answer wasn't entirely accurate of course -- Severus knew he was angry about the more than thirty house points he'd lost. "How was yours?" That last was civilly spoken, but just barely.

"Fine," Severus answered, debating mentioning that he had enjoyed the opportunity afforded to him to potentially rob Gryffindor of the house cup this year. "How are your classes going?" He told himself that he really wasn't interested. Just making polite conversation.

"Fine," Harry said again, and then a strange light entered his eyes. "Well, not all my classes," he added.

"Oh?" Curious in spite himself, Severus leaned forward wondering if Harry was going to share something about his other classes, and wondering why he cared if he did.

"Yes," Harry continued. "I hate my potions class," he explained blithely. "I don't get along with the teacher. He can't seem to explain anything in a way that makes sense."

Severus' eyes narrowed as he found himself caught somewhat off guard by the tact Harry was taking. He'd of course initiated it, asking about the classes after all. But he hadn't expected such an open insult. "Maybe if you paid more attention, the things he told you would make more sense," he bit out.

"I do pay attention," Harry insisted. "It just doesn't seem to do any good! He doesn't give good directions. I do exactly what he tells me to do and my potions still blow up in my face."

"Exactly what he tells you!" Severus leaped to his feet, incensed by the blatant lie. "You chop instead of slice, dice or sliver. You don't mash, ground, or grind any of your ingredients properly and you fling them together as if you're making a stew instead of a magical potion!"

Harry leaped to his feet as well. "You tell me to add a cup of Ansil Weed, I add a cup. You tell me to add a salamander tongue, I add a salamander tongue. And then you tell me I did everything wrong!"

"I told you to add a cup of DICED Ansil Weed, and a SLIVERED salamander tongue!" Severus roared back at him.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelieving outrage. "They all turned to mush in the cauldron anyway. What in hell does it matter if they're diced, sliced or mashed!"

"You stupid boy! It matters!" Severus yelled at him in fury. "The preparation changes the properties of the ingredients. Any five-year-old wizard knows that!"

"I was never a five-year-old wizard!" Harry shouted back, once again turning Severus words from several days ago right back on him. Shocked Severus stepped back in amazement. The boy was too clever by half, and now that he stopped and thought about it he had a point to boot. He stood in silence, blinking at the angry young man in disbelief. Well. . . damn! Making a quick decision he turned and walked swiftly toward the door to his private lab.

"Come here," he told ordered, pushing open the door. He didn't bother to see if the young man was following him. Instead he began rummaging through his stores on the shelves around the room, removing a jar containing Wizarding sugar root. When he turned back around Harry was standing beside his worktable, waiting patiently, his face still fixed in a stubborn but expectant frown.

Severus set down several of the sugar roots, and picked up a sharp knife. He began cutting through the roots with quick deft strokes of the knife, dicing some, slicing others, chopping a third pile and final dropping some into a mortar and pestle and grinding a fourth bit. Then he handed one of the untouched roots to Harry. "Taste," he ordered.

Looking somewhat put out, Harry took the root from his hand and bit off a small portion. "It's sugar root," he shrugged. "Tastes sweet."

Severus handed one of the sliced pieces of root. "Taste," he ordered again.

Sighing, Harry took a bite of that. He frowned at the taste, his eyes widening slightly. "It's. . .not as sweet."

Satisfied, Severus handed him a piece of diced root. Harry tasted it without being asked this time. "It's salty!" he exclaimed.

Next he handed over the chopped root. "Tart!" Harry sounded completely baffled.

Severus held out the bowl with ground root inside it, watching as Harry dipped a finger in and brought it to his mouth. He found himself a bit preoccupied with the pink tongue that licked the digit clean and almost didn't hear Harry exclaimed. "It's too sweet now!"

"Sugar root is one of the more extreme examples of magical ingredients," Severus informed him. "The differences in preparation are extraordinarily noticeable, something every Wizarding child learns in their mother's kitchen growing up. All the magical ingredients you use in potions are affected by the way in which they are prepared. If a potion asks for _diced _Ansil Weed and you _chop_ them you might as well have just added a completely unrelated ingredient for all the good it will do."

Harry looked completely flummoxed. "No one ever told me," he stammered. "I thought you were just being fussy."

"Fussy!" Severus glared at him.

"How was I supposed to know?" Harry insisted. "You never mentioned any of this. Not even during my first year."

"Don't they teach you these things in Muggle Studies?" Severus had never actually taken Muggle Studies himself, having believed it to be a waste of time. He was beginning to think his assessment has been accurate.

"No," Harry told him. "And I don't take Muggle Studies -- it's pointless. According to Neville they are currently discussing the relative merits of analog verses digital watches. Something no Muggle-born cares about."

"Then apparently we need two different versions of Muggle studies," Severus mused. Muggle Studies was supposed to teach Wizarding children about the Muggle world, and Muggle-born children about the Wizarding World. It seemed however it focused on the ridiculous minutia of the Muggle World alone.

"Apparently," Harry agreed, looking down at the collection of sugar root. "I'm sorry."

Surprised by the apology, Severus raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "For what?"

"For screwing up in potions," he explained.

Severus sighed. "I'm the teacher," he admitted grudgingly. "It was my mistake not yours. I should have figured out what the problem was." A thought occurred to him. "You don't suppose that's what Longbottom's problem was?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "He's wizard-born. He's just terrified of you."

Severus almost laughed at the explanation. "And you're not?"

Harry looked up at him, his gaze open and thoughtful. "No," he admitted. "I've been living here three weeks now and you haven't even come close to killing me. No matter how angry I've made you."

Suddenly suspicions Severus glowered at him. "Have you been trying to make me angry?"

"No," Harry smiled. "If I was really trying, you'd know. Sirius has been mailing me lists of suggestions that he's certain will send you into a rage."

"Potter!" Severus sputtered in shock, not at all certain how to take that comment. He actually wouldn't put it past Sirius Black to do just such a thing. Remus Lupin too.

Harry just grinned somewhat cheekily at him. "I'm going to bed," he announced and left him there still struggling to find words.

After a moment Severus just gave up and laughed softly. He hated to admit it, but he as actually starting to like the boy.

---------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Goodness, by the time I'm done, my notes are going to be longer than the story. Luckily, you don't need to read my notes to read the story (and hopefully enjoy it).

I thought I'd mentioned where some of the ideas from this chapter came from. Harry, as you can see, has very definite ideas about what role a man and a woman are supposed to play in society. And he's worried that he's been forced into the roll of a woman, simply because he still really can't conceive of a marriage as anything else. As mentioned in chapter 2, he has no real prejudice (good thing since he'll eventually discover he's gay!) against homosexuality, but I reason out that is because it was never something he thought of before. The Dursleys literally didn't talk to him -- not even to instill their own set of beliefs on him. (To be honest with you I had never heard of homosexuality until I was nearly graduated from High School -- the topic just never came up -- so it does happen.)

As such, Harry has no clue how to integrate into the life of a married man. Furthermore he's always been self-sufficient -- he had no true guardians growing up. He doesn't know how to accept the care Severus is attempting to give him. Why would he? I think it's one of the reasons Harry always runs head-long into danger -- it doesn't occur to him to ask someone else to take care of the problem.

And finally -- I'm a huge fan of Alton Brown (Good Eats). It occurred to me that if the melting point of butter vs. margarine (or whether you warm it to room temperature first, or use it directly from the refrigerator) can change the outcome of your cooking, why couldn't the preparation of potion ingredients change the outcome of the potion?


	7. Chapter 7 The Binds that Tie

Chapter 7 - The Binds that Tie

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table the following morning with a beginning potions book propped open before him. He'd found it in the library early that morning -- something set aside for first years since it was no more than basics. Sure enough there was a whole section in there that spoke of the necessity of chopping verses dicing -- and while it did mention the change these things had in the properties of the ingredients in question, it was couched in vague references that a Muggle-born probably would not recognize.

"Oh, God, it's finally happened!" Seamus groaned in horror. Harry looked up in surprise as his fellow Gryffindors joined him. "Harry's reading a potions book!"

Harry flushed under the looks his friends were giving him, especially Ron. "Oh, knock it off," he told them. "It isn't that bad. I'm just trying to make certain I don't flunk potions." He turned the book around and shoved it across the table toward Hermione. "Did you know that there is an actual difference between dicing and chopping ingredients in the outcome of the potions."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, what about it?"

"I didn't know," Harry told her pointedly. "Don't recall it ever being mentioned in class. And while I've been assured that this is something most wizard-born children learn by the age of five, it isn't something a Muggle-born would know. How is it you know?"

"I read about it of course," she pointed to the book. "It says right there in plain English."

"It says right there in very vague English," Harry informed her. "There is nothing plain about it."

"Then how did you figure it out?" Hermione asked.

"Professor Snape told me," he explained.

"Oh God, Harry!" Neville moaned. "He's forcing you to study potions in your free time now?"

Harry frowned at Neville. "No, not really. We were just talking." Though he had to admit that sounded weird too. And judging by the looks on his friends' faces they all thought so as well.

"You were talking?" Ron demanded. "To Snape? Just chatting? About what? Quidditch?"

"Potions," Harry sighed. "It's not like I can avoid talking to the man." And if he was truthful with himself, he was beginning to admit he almost enjoyed the conversations.

"That must be bloody awful!" Seamus exclaimed.

"It's not that bad," Harry informed them all. "He's not. . .he isn't. . ." He just sighed and shrugged. "It's not that bad. Believe it or not, I actually get away with calling him names right to his face."

That shocked them all. Hermione looked utterly amazed. "Are you telling me that he doesn't take away house points when you call him names?"

Harry shook his head. "Not outside of school hours. I can tell he thinks about it, but he never actually does it. I guess he doesn't think it would be fair."

"Snape doing something to be fair?" Ron snorted in disbelief. "That will be the day."

"Do you ever call him by his name?" Dean asked curiously.

Harry frowned perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's kind of weird you calling your bond-mate Professor Snape," he pointed out.

"What else am I supposed to call him? He still calls me Mr. Potter."

"Not all the time," Neville told him. "He called you Harry when he made you go to Hogsmeade with him. Remember?"

Harry did remember and he frowned. He'd vaguely remembered him calling him Harry before that too -- in bed if he remembered correctly, though he wasn't about to share that piece of information with his friends. "Would feel weird calling him anything other than Snape," he told them with a dismissive shrug.

They all nodded in agreement. "Still," Dean added. "It's kind of weird."

Harry personally thought the entire thing was kind of weird.

Quidditch practice started and took up much of Harry's time in the afternoons after class. He often didn't find time to do his homework until after dinner. Then he'd sit quietly at the desk Snape had set up for him while Snape graded papers by the fire. He had noticed that despite the fact that Snape had an entire office to himself, he often spent his evenings in front of the fire and Harry wondered if this was a new development for his benefit. Oddly enough he suspected Snape did it to keep him company -- though why, he couldn't imagine. It wasn't as if he really liked the man. And certainly Snape couldn't stand him.

And yet he didn't retreat to the private office when he so easily could have. And after a while Harry grew accustomed to his presence. From time to time the man would even speak to him, commenting on something he was reading or something that had happened in the course of the day. Harry found himself speaking occasionally too -- mostly asking questions about his homework that he would have typically asked Hermione if he'd been doing his homework in the Gryffindor common room like normal. To his surprise, Snape usually answered his questions, reserving the majority of his overly snarky comments for potions class, which were still as difficult as ever though Harry had to admit he had been getting steadily improving marks due to more careful preparation of ingredients. More than once he'd actually caught Snape looking approvingly at the contents of his cauldron, though the man had yet to actually compliment him.

The arrival of the clothing Snape had ordered for him from Torsand surprised Harry even though he'd known they were coming. He hadn't actually expected so much -- he'd never owned so many things in his life. And so many things that actually fit -- he'd tried on several of the items, staring at himself in the mirror in amazement. Okay, he wasn't so certain about the riding breeches -- but he had to admit the doublets looked nice. Eventually he put everything away in the wardrobe, and rejoined Snape in the common room.

"Well?" Snape asked, not looking up from the scroll he was reading.

"It's. . .nice," Harry admitted, wondering what precisely he was supposed to do now. He supposed thanks were in order, but he felt suddenly very awkward and very strange. Didn't seem right that Snape of all people should be giving him so much. It felt weird.

Snape looked up, expression unreadable. "Nice?" He sounded somewhat disbelieving.

Harry flushed. The man must have spent a small fortune on the clothes; the material alone was worth a ton of coins. "I've just never owned so much before," he admitted. "It feels. . ..strange." He sat down nervously in his chair.

"What's strange about it?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know," Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath that penetrating stare. "I just don't think. . .I mean. . I know what you said and all, but I should have bought everything myself."

"I thought we went over all that," Snape leaned back in his chair, dropping the scroll into his lap in irritation.

"I know what you said," Harry repeated. "But still. . . it's not right! I don't care what everyone else thinks or says; I didn't marry you for your money. And you didn't exactly have a choice either. You shouldn't have to pay for me!"

"Pay for you?"

Harry flushed again, realizing how that sounded. He glared angrily at Snape. "I didn't mean that! I meant you shouldn't have to take care of me! I don't need anyone to take care of me!"

Snape leaned forward suddenly, his face set in a dark frown. "Mr. Potter, this has nothing to do with me taking care of you, or paying for you, or what ever it is you think is right or wrong. This has to do with what I, and the rest of the Wizarding World, consider my responsibility, and the fact that I have no intention of showing up in public with my bond-mate improperly dressed!"

Anger and hurt flared so swiftly through Harry that he almost hit Snape's sneering face; came so close in fact that his fists had clenched, his body trembling in rage. As it was he only managed to restrain himself by jumping up and running from the room. He fled to Snape's private library, slamming the door behind him and locking it tightly. Fury rolled off him in waves, causing several books to fly off their shelves and fall to the floor with loud thumps.

Startled by the sounds, Harry felt the rage drain out of him and he dropped down onto his butt in the middle of the floor, too numb to even bother looking for a proper seat. With the rage gone all he was left with was the hurt.

So Severus Snape was ashamed of him! He should have known. Just like the Dursleys. Their solution was to lock him up in a small room and pretend he didn't exist. Snape's solution was apparently to dress him up in fancy clothing and pretend he was something other than what he was. He'd always thought Snape hated the fact that he was famous -- never thought the day would come when Snape would force him into the ridiculous celebrity status he'd spent the last several years mocking him for. But apparently it worked for him now, didn't it? Gave him back his family's good name. The very thought hurt.

Harry found himself fighting back tears once again. He wouldn't cry. He never cried. Not even Voldemort had ever succeeded in making him cry. Snape certainly wasn't going to succeed. But he didn't really know why he hurt so much. He didn't like Snape after all. Didn't care what the man thought of him.

At least he didn't think he did, did he? Surely he hadn't actually entertained the thought that Snape might have bought him all those clothes because he wanted to do something nice for him? That would be utterly ridiculous -- especially since he had explained quite clearly before hand why he was doing it. Granted he'd couched it in a bunch of nonsense about marital roles in the Wizarding society, but he'd never once indicated that he actually cared about Harry's well being.

Not like Harry cared either -- after all he'd just told Snape that he didn't need anyone to take care of him. And he didn't. Never had. Certainly the Dursleys had never taken care of him. And while Sirius might have been willing to take care of him, he had never been given the opportunity. Last thing he needed was to pretend that this farce of a marriage was anything more than what it was. An inconvenience for both of them. Snape wasn't really his family now.

No, it wouldn't do for him to feel hurt about anything Snape did or didn't do. He should have just ended their argument with his typical declaration of undying hate and left it at that. See if he ever tried to start a conversation with the man again!

Sighing, Harry climbed wearily to his feet. He was tired -- Quidditch practice that afternoon had taken a lot of out of him. And the last ten minutes had left him feeling drained and cold. But at least now he had his emotions under control, his resolve firmly back in place. After all he knew why he was here -- they both did, thanks to Snape's words.

He unlocked the door and returned to the common room. Snape was still sitting by the fire, though he looked up when Harry re-entered the room. His face was quite unreadable. Moving toward the desk, Harry began gathering his homework together, intent on going to bed.

"What was that all about?" Snape demanded.

Harry didn't look up but he could feel Snape's gaze on him. "Nothing," he muttered. "Doesn't matter."

"Harry?" The sound of his name surprised Harry and he looked up sharply. Snape was staring at him in bewilderment.

"Why do you call me that?" Harry demanded.

Snape looked somewhat taken aback. "What?"

"Harry. You call me that sometimes. Why? Why bother?" Harry clarified. "You've never done it before. You've always called me Potter, or Boy, or Idiot or Brat. They've always suited you before. Why change now? Am I supposed to call you Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You've never been particularly reticent either about calling me whatever you damned well like."

"It's not the same."

"We're bond-mates. We're going to have to get used to certain familiarities sooner or later!" Snape insisted.

"Because society expects it?" Harry demanded.

"What in Hell is all this about?" Snape asked in exasperation. "You're obviously angry about something. What? What did I do?"

Realizing that he'd broken his own resolve not to indulge in these conversations again, Harry just shook his head, turning away. "Nothing, never mind. It doesn't matter." He was nearly all the way to the bedroom door before a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him, turning him around. Alarmed, Harry stared up at Snape in surprised. So far the man had refrained largely from touching him save when absolutely necessary.

But far from the angry expression he expected to see glaring down at him, Harry actually thought Snape looked. . .. worried? "Have I hurt you in some way?"

"No!" Harry denied vehemently.

"Then what in hell is wrong?" Snape asked. "I've obviously upset you."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You've spent every year I've been here going out of your way to upset me! Why should you care now?"

Snape's hand tightened on his harm. "Because I didn't intend it this time!"

"So it's different when you do intend it?" Harry scoffed.

"Yes," Snape growled, eyes no longer worried but angry, flashing with their usual fire.

"Why?" Harry demanded again. "Because now we're bond-mates? Because now we're supposed to be a family?" The very idea was ludicrous.

"Yes!"

"I hate you!" Harry informed him, quite pleased to have found an appropriate opportunity to tell him that once again. Problem was he was starting to suspect it wasn't entirely true.

"So you keep saying!" Snape said. "But I'd like to point out that doesn't disprove my point. You hate the Dursleys too, and my brothers hate me, and I hated my father. Hate is a common theme in families. Sometimes it's the glue that holds them together!"

"If that's true then we'll never be parted!" Harry shot back, his heart tightened in his chest at the thought. Families founded on hatred; it sounded like the most horrible thing he could imagine. All he could think of was the Weasleys and the time he'd spent with them the few summers he'd been able to leave Privet Drive early. Seemed he would never have that.

Apparently Snape had no answer to that, and Harry just glared up at him. "Stop touching me," he ordered.

Snape looked confused for a moment. "What?" he asked in disbelief and then noticed that his hand was still clamped tightly around Harry's arm. He released him as if he'd been burned, stepping quickly away. Harry turned immediately and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him firmly. So far Snape had given him complete privacy when he was preparing for bed. Despite the fight, he didn't expect that to change tonight.

He entered the bathroom, moving on automatic as he went through his nightly ablutions, changing finally into his pajamas. Then he returned to the bedroom where he stopped next to his wardrobe to peer inside once again. The beautiful new clothing seemed almost to mock him, and he ran his hand over the soft materials, remembering the day they'd gone to Torsand. He'd actually almost enjoyed himself that day. Certainly he'd enjoyed teasing Snape about being the only Potions Master married to a professional Quidditch player. And picking out all those things had been fun.

But Snape had only done it because he was ashamed of Harry. How could he imagine that would not upset him?

But then Snape never said anything he didn't mean. He honestly hadn't intended to upset him? Harry frowned.

If that were true. . . _I have no intention of showing up with my bond-mate improperly dressed_ .. . .a direct attack toward him! But if he really hadn't intended to upset him, who else could that have been aimed at? If not him? The only others mentioned in that statement were Snape himself and the public in general.

Snape or the public.

Harry paled suddenly, other conversations coming to the foreground. Snape had become a Death Eater to reclaim his family's honor by killing his own father. And in failing that duty he'd become a spy for Dumbledore, suffering God only knew what at the hands of Voldemort for the sake of a duty he believed he had failed in performing. The man had a streak of honor inside him a mile long, but being a Slytherin his motives and methods were almost never decipherable.

Realization struck Harry hard. It wasn't Harry he was ashamed of. He genuinely believed that nonsense about him being responsible for Harry's support -- and if Harry appeared in public inappropriately attired it would be a sure sign that Severus Snape was not performing his duties. That he was neglecting him, like he obviously believed the Dursleys had.

Which meant that these clothes had been gifts. Given out of a sense of duty granted, and not out of affection or kindness, but gifts nonetheless. And Harry had nearly hit him for it. He felt sick to his stomach.

The door opened a moment later and Snape entered, moving toward the bathroom without a word.

"Thank you," Harry said softly to him, stopping his progress across the room.

When he heard no answer he turned toward him. Snape was staring at him as if he'd completely lost his mind. "For the clothing," Harry explained. "Thank you for the clothes. I like them. No one has ever bought me so much. . .and it's. . ." He stopped that line of thought. That's what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Okay, it was still weird, but at least now he could understand it a bit more. "It's just. . .thank you."

Once again Snape looked completely lost for words. Finally he just shook his head in bafflement. "You're welcome," he said simply.

Harry just smiled at him and then headed toward the bed to sleep, leaving a completely bewildered Severus Snape standing in the middle of their room.

----------------------

Author's note: I mentioned there would be some violence in this story. The action picks up in the next chapter (no, not THAT kind of action! Harry's not there emotionally yet). And yes, Sirius will be appearing soon.


	8. Chapter 8 All the Kings Men

Author's Note: This story was really meant to be nothing more than a forced-marriage fic. But a rather long and involved plot developed shortly after I started it. The pieces of this plot begin to show themselves in this chapter.

Chapter 8 -- All the Kings Men

Harry went with Ron and Hermione to Honeydukes the following weekend, dressed in some of the more casual clothing Snape had bought him. Nevertheless both Ron and Hermione commented on the outfit, Hermione telling him he looked quite nice. Ron just made gagging noises at the thought of Snape buying Harry anything. Harry endured it all with little comment. He and Snape had an unspoken agreement not to bring the subject up again.

As they walked the path toward Hogsmeade, Harry talked about his last letter from Sirius and the promise the man had made him to come visit as soon as possible. "I'm hoping he'll be here this weekend," Harry told them.

"Isn't it dangerous for him to come back here," Hermione protested.

"Not if he stays out of sight," Harry replied. "He's already doing work for Dumbledore as it is, and needs to report in occasionally. And the Ministry still doesn't know anything about Snuffles. Sometimes I think he prefers that form."

"Think he'll hurt Snape when he gets here?" Ron asked hopefully.

Harry just shook his head. "You keep forgetting the fact that none of this was Snape's fault. He only married me to protect me. And it's not like he's done anything to hurt me since then. Sirius might not be happy about things, but Snape hasn't done anything wrong either." He was amused by how disappointed Ron looked at the thought.

"You don't actually want Snape to do something wrong do you?" Hermione asked the redhead.

"No, of course not!" Ron assured them both, and they both laughed at the look of dismay on his face.

"Don't worry, Ron," Harry assured him. "I'm sure sooner or later Snape will say something that will set Sirius off, and you can watch the two of them fight."

"You think so?" Ron's eyes lit up at the thought.

"When did you get so blood thirsty?" Hermione sighed. "Boys!" She shook her head in disgust.

They spent a few hours at Honeydukes, and then later at the local pub, all of them joking around with some of their classmates and enjoying a game of Exploding Snaps. Afterwards they wandered up and down the streets of the village looking into various shop. Harry stopped to admire a gleaming sword he saw in a shop window while Hermione dragged Ron across the street to look into a bookstore. Harry smiled, listening to Ron complaining the entire way. He also noted that Ron didn't refuse to go with Hermione however. Said a lot for Ron to abandon a display of weapons to go look at books.

Laughing to himself, Harry decided to give the two of them a few moments alone and he turned his attention back to the sword in the shop window. It reminded him faintly of Godric Gryffindor's sword that he'd used to kill the Basilisk during his second year of school. That seemed almost a lifetime ago now.

Movement inside the shop caught his attention, and he looked up, peering through the window. Several men were inside, talking to the store proprietor. It took Harry a moment to realize he knew one of them. Alphedor Carlton. A Death Eater. He'd met the man during one of Voldemort's attacks last year. And here he was now, with a group of other men, buying weapons of some sort.

Just as he started to back away, one of the men in the shop glanced up toward the window and spotted him there. A shout when up. Harry turned and ran, eyes scanning for cover. He didn't think he could make it into the bookstore in time.

The door burst open and he heard the first curse shouted, shooting past his head as he ducked and dove toward a large rain barrel in front of the bookstore walkway. Even as he dove he felt something slamming into him, vaguely aware of a sharp pain. Then he was rolling to his knees, turning, wand raised in his right hand. Oddly enough his right hand wasn't moving properly, and he couldn't for a moment understand why he couldn't lift it all the way.

The protruding fletch of feathers from the crossbow arrow sticking out of his right shoulder probably had something to do with it he guessed, and he spared a brief moment to wonder why he couldn't feel more pain.

More curses were coming now, and he heard screams on the street as other people dove out of the way, getting caught in the hail of curses. Transferring his wand to his left hand, Harry shouted back his own curses at the advancing men. From behind him, he heard a couple of more curses aimed toward the Death Eaters as Ron and Hermione crouched behind the door of the bookstore and attempted to come to his aid.

The Death Eaters, six of them Harry could see now, dove for the cover of the large stone planters lining the walkway in front of the weapon's store. One of them lobbed off another arrow in Harry's direction. This one caught him low on the left leg tearing all the way through the muscle and protruding out the other side. Harry tried to draw himself more completely behind the barrel. It really wasn't much cover. The permanent fixtures along the street had spells worked into their foundations to protect them from attacks. But the barrel -- another shouted curse from one of the Death Eaters and it wasn't any cover at all -- exploded in a shower of splinters that left Harry open to attack.

He threw a shielding spell, blocking several more curses as he attempted to dive toward the door of the bookstore. His leg didn't want to work properly and he could feel his shielding spell weakening as several more curses struck it. Then Hermione was shouting again, sending out several curses while Ron reached out from the door and caught hold of Harry's shoulders dragging him inside behind the door. Before Harry could thank his friend, a spell struck Ron directly in the chest, sending him flying back several feet to lie unmoving on the ground.

Harry turned, wand raised again, returning fire. He could see several people lying unmoving on the street. Dead he suspected. One had a crossbow bolt through his chest. Two others looked as if they'd been hit by curses that had skinned them alive. One had the blank look of a man hit by the killing curse.

The six Death Eaters were safely barricaded behind the stone planter wall in front of the weapons store, and Harry couldn't get a clear shot to any of them. He could see a dozen other people cowering on the street, hiding behind carts and flower pots. Three Hogwarts students were cowering down behind a display of cauldrons not far from the weapons store. If one of the Death Eaters moved just slightly further forward, the students would be open to attack. Harry had no doubt they would be killed.

An idea struck him. "Hermione?" Pain flared through his entire body as he turned to catch the girl's attention. Her eyes were wide in terror. "Can you do an illusion for me?" he asked. "Someone running out of the store, down the street toward that tea shop over there?"

Hermione nodded. "When?"

"Now would be good," he told her. He braced himself against the doorframe, wand clutched tightly in his left hand. His entire right arm was going numb.

Hermione threw the spell, and Harry saw the figure of a dark-haired boy with glasses running out of the shop and down toward the tea store. Instantly three of the Death Eaters surged forward to curse him, opening themselves up for a clear shot.

Harry picked the one in the back, aimed his wand and whispered the words of his spell, feeling power rush out of him as the spell struck the man in question. It wasn't the Imperious -- he doubted he had the strength to throw something that powerful. But it was a precursor to it -- something he and Hermione had discovered last year during their History of Magic class. An old spell called King's Voice, not as strong or as potent as the Imperious, not illegal either since most people had long ago forgotten it even existed. It had too many flaws in it to be of interest to the Death Eaters who would opt to use the Imperious instead. For one thing it was temporary, and it required a continuous line of sight to maintain. But Harry hoped it would be enough.

"Stop them," he whispered into the midst of his spell, weaving the words together and sending them toward the Death Eater he'd struck.

The man immediately turned, eyes blank, and shot curses toward the unprotected backs of his comrades in front of him. Two of them went down immediately, before one of the others blasted the man who'd been caught by Harry's spell, breaking the bonds and sending all that energy flashing back into Harry's bleeding body. Harry slumped weakly down on the floor, not certain he could muster enough energy to move again.

Then he heard another curse hit the door only a few feet from his head. The crackling of flames caught his attention. Horror flooded him as he realized that the Death Eaters had lit the bookstore on fire.

"Hermione!" he yelled. "Get Ron out the back door!"

"I'm not leaving you here!" she protested.

"He'll die!" Harry insisted. "He's helpless. I'll hold them off. Go!"

New strength came with his determination to save his friends, and he turned to throw a few more weak curses while Hermione, realizing that Harry was indeed right, and Ron was helpless, levitated Ron with a spell and began moving him out the back door.

As she left, Harry was vaguely aware of several other people going with her, scrambling toward the door while he put up covering fire for them to escape. He couldn't help wondering bitterly how many full-grown adult wizards had been hiding behind him while three sixth-year students from Hogwarts had fought off the Death Eaters.

It was growing hot by the door and Harry tried to back away from the rising flames, only to realize that his leg refused to move any longer. The books in the front display window were catching fire swiftly, and Harry knew it was just a matter of minutes before the entire building was an inferno. He tried to throw another curse back out through the doorway, but found to his horror that his left hand this time would no longer move. Baffled he stared blankly down at his arm. A sharp splitter of wood was sticking out of his left bicep and he wondered when he'd gotten that. Couldn't remember, though he supposed it must have happened when the barrel had exploded.

It occurred to him briefly that it was highly likely he was going to die, going to burn to death in the bookstore, or failing that be hit with a killing curse as he could no longer run. And then across the street, he heard familiar voices shouting, heard the distinctive crack of several people apparating to the scene. A glance through the fire showed him Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape catching the remaining three Death Eaters by surprise, wrapping them up in binding spells even as Aurors swarmed toward them.

And as Harry slumped down onto the floor, blood seeping from the many wounds on his body, he saw his two rescuers advancing on the bookstore, wands pointed toward the flames which any minute now would be licking at his skin. Blessed coolness washed over him, and he felt his wand drop from his numb fingers. He had a moment to think musingly that his bond-mate looked quite impressive when he was angry, and then the world began to grow gray and fuzzy.

----------------------------------

Severus had been at lunch in the Great Hall brooding about Harry's strange behavior for the better part of an hour -- he'd actually been brooding about it for several days, though he was careful not to point this fact out to himself. He still wasn't certain what that conversation about the clothing had been all about. That he'd said something that had obviously hurt and angered Harry was apparent, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it had been. Anger Harry could apparently handle just fine -- he'd seen the boy's fist clench as if to hit him. But apparently anger coupled with hurt was unmanageable, which he suspected was why Harry had locked himself in the library.

But what he'd done still remained a mystery to him. Once Harry had gotten over the pride issue about paying for his own things, he had actually rather hoped he'd appreciate the clothing. Certainly Severus had wanted him to enjoy them. But apparently he'd completely missed something, and the last thing he had wanted to do was hurt Harry. Far as he could tell, Harry had been hurt by the people who were supposed to take care of him quite enough. He didn't need any more pain.

And then not ten minutes later in the bedroom Harry had completely confused him again when he'd given him the response he'd been hoping to get in the first place, as if nothing of the previous conversation had happened at all. If he ever figured out the convoluted mind of Harry Potter it would be a miracle. In the mean while he supposed he'd have to settle for rampant insanity.

Still lost in thought he was distracted when the Dark Mark on his arm began to tingle faintly. He frowned, touching the silver wire through the sleeve of his robes. Albus' spell prevented any pain from touching him, but he could still sense the activation of the mark. It wasn't precisely a summons he realized. Felt more like a small gathering of other Death Eaters. Nearby from the feel of it.

Alarmed, he looked up, scanning the Great Hall for a familiar face. The Gryffindor table had many empty seats. Ron, Hermione and Harry were gone, along with a number of other students to Hogsmeade.

"Albus!" he said sharply. Dumbledore looked up in alarm. "We've got to find Harry."

He saw Dumbledore and several other teachers turn toward the Gryffindor table. "He's gone to Hogsmeade," Minerva explained to all of them.

Severus didn't wait to hear more, heading swiftly toward the door. Behind him he heard Madame Hooch offering to summon the Aurors while Albus followed swiftly behind Severus.

Summoning brooms, the two of them flew off Hogwarts grounds, heading swiftly toward Hogsmeade. As they approached the small village, Severus noticed smoke rising from the center of the village. Cursing he flew lower, diving toward the source of the fire. As he neared he could see the battle waging in the street, bodies lying scattered about on the cobblestones. It took a moment for him to figure out who was where -- that was Harry trapped inside the burning bookstore!

He crashed through a side window of the weapons shop where the Death Eaters were barricaded, Albus right behind him, coming up behind the men. Three down already, the others turned toward the sound of breaking glass. Severus and Albus had them trusted up inside binding spells in a matter of seconds. Outside he could hear the arrival of Aurors, and then he was running toward the burning bookstore. Through the partially opened doorway he could see Harry, covered in blood, slumped on the floor, flames drawing ever closer to him. He pointed his wand at the flames and shouted an extinguishing spell. He felt Albus' power joining his, containing the fire, pulling it back in and extinguishing it entirely.

Severus shoved opened the scorched door and dropped to his knees beside Harry, his heart moving to his throat as he stared at the damage done. Arrows in the right shoulder and left leg, numerous cuts bleeding profusely, a large chunk of wood embedded in his left bicep. His shirt was nearly soaked in blood, and with trembling hands Severus cast a spell to stop the bleeding before he bled himself dry.

"Harry?" he called, pulling the boy into his arms, trying hard not to jostle the wounds too severely. He tapped lightly at Harry's face, trying to see if he was suffering from a curse or just passed out from pain or blood loss.

Harry moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "Snape?" he whispered, blood on his lips. His glasses were broken and Snape removed them, stuffing them in his robes along with Harry's wand. "Ron, Hermione?"

Understanding what he was asking, Snape glanced swiftly around. Just outside the door he could see Albus with Hermione. The headmaster was busy reviving Weasley from some sort of spell. Both looked unhurt.

"They're alright," he assured Harry. Pain flickered across Harry's face and Snape quickly performed a pain numbing charm, cursing himself for not thinking of that immediately.

Some of the strain eased from Harry's face and he looked weakly up at him, eyes unfocused. "Sorry," he whispered softly.

"For what?" Severus asked disbelieving. Surely the boy didn't think the attack was his fault.

"Killed them," Harry explained. "More dead." It occurred to Snape suddenly that of the six Death Eaters he'd seen, three of them had already been dead. He felt his chest tightening in sympathy for the boy. This was the last thing he needed.

"Rest, Harry," he urged gently. "I'll get you back to the castle."

Harry slumped against him, saying nothing as Severus lifted him up into his arms and carried him out of the scorched bookstore.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed when they saw them. Ron's eyes were wide in terror. "Is he . . .?"

"He's alive," Severus assured them both. He looked at Albus. "But we need to get him to Poppy immediately."

"There's a floo in the Three Broomsticks," Albus told him. "We can floo directly to the hospital wing."

Nodding, Severus carried Harry swiftly down the street, flanked by Albus, Hermione and Ron. The crowd of onlookers who'd come out once the Aurors had shown up moved swiftly side. Severus shot them all his most withering glare. There were a dozen fully qualified wizards and witches in the crowd of sightseers, and yet the only one he'd seen casting spells had been Harry.

The proprietor of Broomsticks was waiting for them, door thrown open for all of them. Inside was a crowd of other Hogwarts students who surged forward with concern at the sight of the bloodied Harry Potter in the arms of their Potions Master. Albus immediately calmed them, ordering them to head straight back to the castle, and to gather up any of their classmates along the way. Then the Headmaster activated the floo and allowed Severus to floo straight into the hospital wing. Ron and Hermione quickly followed.

Poppy came running when Severus yelled for her, her eyes widening when she saw the body he carried. As Severus set Harry down on one of the hospital beds, she drew a curtain around his bed and then began to work on him, her face regaining a professional calmness. Between the two of them they got the boy stripped of most of his bloody clothes, a spell removed the majority of the splintered wood embedded in his skin, including the horrid looking chunk that had pierced his bicep. But a quick exam of the two crossbow arrows revealed a minor charm on both of them. Only one way to take them out.

"Hold him, Severus," Poppy ordered. Severus nodded, moving to hold the boy down. "The arrow is embedded in his shoulder blade. I can't drive it all the way through. It's going to have to come out the hard way."

Severus felt himself blanch at the thought. "Do it," Severus ordered grimly. Poppy grabbed hold of the arrow shaft with a pair of Muggle pliers and pulled while Severus held Harry immobile. Despite the pain-blocking spells, Harry screamed as the bolt ripped free. The sound was like a knife through Severus heart. The boy went limp, passed out again from the pain.

The bolt in his leg was easier to manage. It had gone all the way through and Poppy was able to first snip off the barbed end of the arrow before pulling the shaft out of his flesh. When she finished, both their hands were covered in blood. Behind them, Snape heard Hermione crying softly against Ron Weasley's shoulder.

With Severus' help, Poppy got several potions down Harry's throat. The boy choked and sputtered on the taste of several of them, and Severus found himself gently stroking his throat trying to get him to swallow it all. "Come on, Harry," he whispered softly. "Just a few more drinks." He wasn't certain if the boy even heard him, but it seemed to help and so he kept it up, whispering encouragement to him.

With the potions out of the way Poppy set about closing the wounds themselves, using her considerable skill to begin mending his flesh back together. When she was through Harry was nearly whole again. The three larger wounds would take several more sessions to heal. But she bandaged them up neatly, and the two of them set about cleaning him up and getting him dressed in a pair of hospital pajamas before tucking him back in to sleep. He didn't regain consciousness again.

When Severus finally found himself with nothing to do but sit at Harry's bedside, he glanced around to realize that aside from Granger and Weasley, Albus, Minerva and Constable Terrence Lowry from the Ministry Auror division had joined them.

"How is he, Poppy?" Albus asked in concern when Poppy drew aside the curtain she'd placed around the boy's bed, something Severus was grateful for. He didn't like to think that all these people had been watching Harry suffer, despite the fact that he knew most of them loved the boy. Harry hated to show weakness to anyone.

"He'll live, Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey informed them all. Both Ron and Hermione nearly wilted in relief.

Now that the danger had passed, Severus felt anger returning. "What happened?" he demanded of Granger, Weasley and the Auror standing beside them. "I only saw six Death Eaters. There were dozens of fully trained wizards and witches all over Hogsmeade. Why wasn't anyone else helping Harry?" He also vaguely recalled seeing several seventh years hiding behind a cluster of cauldrons as well -- if they had looked up for a second they could have seen a clear shot at any of the Death Eaters.

"Now, now, Severus," Minerva chided. "You can't blame them. Most people are too afraid of standing up to the Death Eaters."

"Besides," the constable argued. "Civilians aren't trained for that sort of thing. Most people panic in an attack."

"Harry didn't!"

"Not a civilian now, is he?" the man answered with a shrug.

"He's sixteen!"

"He's Harry Potter," the man explained as if that was all that was necessary.

Hermione interrupted before Severus could say something more scathing. "It all happened too fast, sir," she explained. "No one knew what was going on. One minute everything was fine and the next thing we knew curses were flying through the streets. Along with arrows. People just ran in every direction."

"What happened then?" Albus asked gently.

Shivering with the memory, Hermione recounted what she could of the events that followed, Ron supplying comments of his own. Snape's estimation of both the young Gryffindors went up considerably when he realized that these two at least had not abandoned Harry. Both had risked their lives for him, had joined him in the battle. Three sixth-years against Death Eaters when there were a dozen others more capable.

"The three Death Eaters, how did they die?" Severus asked them, remembering what Harry had said about killing them.

"The killing curse," the constable explained. "All three of them were hit with it."

Snape felt the blood drain from his face. He knew Harry knew the curse, but he hadn't been aware that the boy had ever actually used it. Not to mention it required a great deal of power to throw -- didn't seem likely that Harry would have had the strength to throw it considering how badly he'd been wounded. Especially not three times.

"Not that we would hold that against the boy," the constable assured them all quickly. "It was self-defense of course. And he's Harry Potter after all." Still, they all knew this would result in an inquiry. Any use of the Unforgivables resulted in an inquiry, and Severus hated to think what hell that would drag Harry through.

"Harry didn't use the killing curse," Hermione told them insistently. "They used it on each other."

On each other? The Imperious then?

"He used the Imperious?" Albus asked, thinking along the same lines.

But Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry doesn't like the Unforgivables. He wouldn't use them. He used the King's Voice. Vocis Regalis."

Severus frowned, glancing at the Headmaster. He'd never heard of the King's Voice.

"We found it last year," she explained. "We were reading The Evolution of Charms and Curses in history class. It mentioned that most modern charms and curses came from older, less powerful ones. We got curious and did some extra research. The King's Voice was the precursor to the Imperious. But it hasn't been used in centuries-- it's not nearly as powerful as the Imperious which replaced it. It's only temporary, and it requires line of sight to maintain. But it worked." She glanced at the constable who was frowning thoughtfully. "And because it's so old and out of date, it's also not illegal. It's not on the books anywhere."

The man just smiled and shook his head. "Good," he said with satisfaction. "With the election coming up I'd hate to be the one to tell Fudge he has to put Harry Potter through an Official Inquiry." He nodded politely to Albus. "Well, since that's taken care of, I had best go make my report." He nodded to Severus as well. "My best to your bond-mate, sir. I hope he's better soon." And then the man strode out of the room.

Severus pulled a chair over to Harry's bed side and slumped down into. "If Harry doesn't get himself killed, idiots like that are going to," Severus complained to Albus.

Albus just smiled sadly. "We'll just have to make certain that doesn't happen, my boy." He turned toward Ron and Hermione. "Now you two should go get cleaned up and assure your housemates that Harry is fine. No doubt all sorts of rumors have already made their way around the castle a dozen times."

"Can we come back and sit with Harry?" Ron asked, looking hopefully over at Madam Pomfrey.

"I'll stay with him," Severus informed them.

"You can come see him briefly after dinner," Madam Pomfrey told Ron and Hermione. "But I want the boy to sleep. He's exhausted, and he lost a lot of blood. He needs rest."

Subdued the two of them nodded and left the hospital wing with Minerva following.

"Will you be alright, Severus?" Albus asked quietly after Poppy had returned to her own office.

"They left the battle to three underage wizards, Albus," he stated flatly. "And they have the gall to wonder how people like Voldemort rise to power. He doesn't have to do anything but show up and they cower in terror. What kind of world do we live in?"

"We live in the kind of world where three underage wizards are willing to die to save the lives of those around them," Albus said gently. "That's rather a wonderful world if you ask me, filled with truly amazing people."

Despite everything Severus felt his lip twitch in amusement. "That's such a Gryffindor thing to say," he sighed.

"How Slytherin of you to notice, Severus," Albus agreed, then patting him gently on the shoulder he left the room, leaving Severus alone with Harry.

Severus leaned over the bed, reaching out to brush some tangled locks of hair of away from Harry's face. The scar on his forehead looked red and angry and he gently traced it with his fingers. He ached inside, something deep and painful and inexplicable. And he couldn't for the life of him understand it. It wasn't the panic he supposed the mindless masses might feel if they thought their hero was gone. And it wasn't the realization that he might have lost the one person who could keep his family name in good standing.

This was something else, something harder and darker, and it made him sick to his stomach to imagine what Harry must have suffered that day. He didn't have the false expectations of the boy that everyone else did -- though he would admit openly that the boy continued to surprise him. But he also didn't like seeing him lying here so helpless and vulnerable. It wasn't right that he should suffer so much. This need to protect him left him lost and flailing about for words to make sense of his feelings. But all he found was turmoil.

"Harry Potter," he said softly, tracing the boy's features slowly with his fingers. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself for this cause." It was a vow. One he intended to keep. He'd made other vows to the young man after all -- to join body, name, house and power to his. What was one more?


	9. Chapter 9 Dog Star

Author's Note: I do love Sirius and Remus. And I had a lot fun playing around with their relationship.

Chapter 9 - Dog Star

Severus was startled out of a light doze some hours later by a harsh voice. "What are you doing here?" Severus opened his eyes to find Sirius Black staring at him from the other side of Harry's bed.

"Keep your voice down," Severus ordered, glancing at Harry to assure himself that he was still safely asleep. Harry looked as if he hadn't moved at all, his face still too pale for Severus' liking.

"Answer my question," Black insisted.

"I should think it is self-explanatory," Severus told him. Sometimes Black's stupidity astounded him. He leaned forward to lightly touch Harry's forehead again, checking his skin temperature, while he caught hold of his wrist with his other hand to check his pulse.

"What are you doing?" Black demanded.

"That should also be self-explanatory," Severus growled in irritation. Harry felt slightly warm to the touch, but his pulse was fine. The potions they'd given him early should take care of any infection, but he suspected he'd need a few more before this was over.

"Is he . . .?" Black began, but trailed off uncertainly.

"Fine," Severus told him. "A minor infection I suspect, but we gave him something to counter that earlier."

"Why are you sitting with him instead of Poppy?" Black asked.

Finally a vaguely intelligent question from the man. "She has other patients, and I volunteered to sit with him."

But his answer obviously didn't satisfy Black. The man's eyes narrowed. "Why you?" he pressed again.

Severus glared up at him in irritation. "He's my bond-mate. I have every right to be here."

"This marriage is a joke and you know it," Black growled.

"And yet still quite legal," Severus pointed out. "Which is more than I can say for your guardianship since you're still a wanted criminal."

Black's eyes flashed with hatred. "Believe me, Snape, no one regrets that more than I do. Harry should be with someone who loves him. Instead he's been stuck with those monstrous Muggles, and now you."

"Love or not, you can't protect him," Severus reminded him.

"And I'm supposed to believe that you can?" Black asked incredulous. "That you would lift a finger to help James Potter's son?"

"Believe whatever the hell you like, Black," Severus sneered. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

Black's eyes went flat with fury. "Really?" the man growled, but a soft sound from Harry caught both their attention.

Harry's eyes flickered lightly and he turned toward his godfather, his eyes opening slowly. Without his glasses he had to squint to see who was looking at him, but when he realized whom it was a warm smile brightened his features. "Sirius," he whispered, his eyes shining with pleasure.

Severus felt something remarkably like jealousy flash through him, and it took him a moment to realize why. He wanted Harry to look at him like that. Complete pleasure at the sight of him. He sat there somewhat stunned by the revelation while Sirius Black leaned over the bed and gently hugged the young man lying there. How could he possibly want something so badly that a few weeks ago would have seemed completely ludicrous?

"Harry, how are you?" Sirius asked, gently stroking Harry's head, brushing his hair from his face. Harry seemed to lean into the comfort of his touch. The jealousy flared again, and Severus fought to squash it back down.

"Glad to see you," Harry admitted. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Sirius told him. "I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you."

"Got your letters," Harry told him. "They helped. Can you stay?"

"I'll stay," Sirius promised. "For as long as I can. As long as I stay out of sight it should be all right. Remus is coming too."

"Good," Harry smiled again, for the absent werewolf this time, and Severus felt the pang again tugging at his heart.

"Albus told me what happened," Sirius told Harry gently. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm fine, Sirius," Harry assured him, though Severus was fairly certain the boy was still in a great deal of pain. The wounds he'd received were not yet all the way closed. No doubt his muscles ached too from the strain of battle, and the forced healing they'd been through. "Dumbledore and Severus saved me."

Severus's eyes widened at Harry's words, not certain what he was more shocked by -- the acknowledgement of what he'd done, or the use of his first name. Sirius was obviously just as shocked by his words.

"Severus?" he asked in disbelief.

Harry's eyes fluttered again and it was obvious he was fighting to stay awake. "Don't fight, okay?" he whispered. "Don't want you to fight." Severus understood then, both the words and the use of his name. He was protecting him! The little brat was actually trying to protect him while lying here half dead himself. He was protecting him from his godfather's temper, or perhaps simply protecting his godfather from finally committing the crime for which he was being hunted. Either way he was putting himself between them -- forcing Sirius to acknowledge both the life debt between them, and the marriage that bred such familiarly.

"Harry?" Sirius asked in confusion. But the young man was down for the count, out like a light again. Sighing in frustration Sirius leaned forward and kissed Harry lightly on the forehead. Then pulling up a chair he sat down next to the bed opposite Severus.

"You do realize that if you ever hurt him, I'll rip your throat out," Black said stiffly.

"Figured as much," Severus agreed mildly.

"Good." Sirius folded his arms and glared across the bed at him.

Severus sighed. It was going to be a long wait.

Several hours later sometime after the evening meal Severus Snape was witness to an odd sight. He'd of course been expecting the arrival of Remus Lupin -- Black had said as much to Harry. And truth be told Lupin looked much as he had last time Severus had seen him. What he hadn't expected to see was the way Black immediately jumped up at the sight of him, crossed the room and threw his arms around him in a fierce hug. Nor could Severus quite explain the somewhat pained look on Lupin's face as he returned the hug awkwardly. By the time Black drew back, face lit up with a brilliant smile, all sign of discomfort was gone from Lupin's face, replaced instead by concern for Harry.

"How is he?" he asked Black quietly.

Black led him over to the bed, one arm draped almost possessively over Lupin's shoulder. Seeing Severus' look of surprise, Lupin actually flushed under his gaze. Black didn't seem to notice.

"Severus," Lupin greeted with a brief nodded as he took the seat Black had just abandoned. Severus suspected he'd sat down simply to get out from under the arm Black had put around his shoulder.

"Remus," Severus greeted back, keeping his tone as cordial as he could. He was a bit baffled by the behavior he had just witnessed, quickly coming to the conclusion that something important had changed in the dynamics of the two Marauders.

He'd first seen Remus Lupin in the Great Hall during their sorting ceremony in first year. He only noticed the small, honey-haired boy because of his so obvious attempt to remain unnoticed. The boy stood apart from the rest of the first years, kept his head shyly down, darted nervous looks at those around him, not daring to even join in the excited whispers of those around him. And then the sorting had begun and Severus had seen something he remembered to this very day.

Sirius Black's name was called, and as the swaggering, cocky youth had stepped up to the platform to receive the sorting hat, Remus Lupin had looked up and fallen instantly in love. It was as if upon seeing Sirius Black he'd seen the sun, moon and stars for the first time in his life. Even at the tender age of eleven Severus had understood what had happened, had understood also somewhere in the far reaches of his soul that no one would ever look at him like that.

Sirius Black had not noticed of course. He was too busy being sorted into Gryffindor to the thunderous cheers of his new housemates. Nor did he notice the look of longing in the eyes of the boy who followed his progress to his seat. The sorting hat was shortly afterward placed on Remus Lupin's head, a long pause as the hat debated where to put him. Severus had watched for it, somehow knowing what he was going to see, and he found himself staring with something akin to awe at the incandescent joy on the boy's face when the hat had sorted him into Gryffindor as well.

He'd lost track of him after that, his own sorting sending him to Slytherin where he'd been greeted by his peers. But despite his colored history with the Marauders he'd never really forgotten that first moment -- often found himself looking for that glimpse of heaven he'd seen in Remus' eyes when he stared at Sirius Black. Emotions like that were all but unknown in his world, and seeing them in Remus' eyes was like catching a glimpse into a different life.

To his knowledge in the seven years they'd been at Hogwarts Remus' devotion to Black had never wavered. To his knowledge Black had also never once figured it out, never once returned the devotion or affection so obviously waiting for him, choosing instead to spread his favors amongst vast and numerous fans.

And Severus still remembered the look of utter devastation on Remus Lupin's face when Sirius Black had been lead away to Azkaban -- as if his world had completely fallen apart, and Severus supposed that for the werewolf it truly had. His friends were dead, and the love of his life was convicted of their murder. That he survived the ensuing years was miraculous.

But now something had changed, and Severus couldn't quite put his finger on what it might be. To see Remus Lupin shying away from Black's touch instead of basking in the attention? Or perhaps the man simply couldn't endure the teasing any longer. And Black. . .Severus' eyes narrowed as he watched the two men talking quietly to one another. There was something almost desperate in the way Black leaned in toward Remus, in the searching, probing gaze he kept subjecting the werewolf to -- the gaze the werewolf wouldn't or couldn't meet for long.

Very interesting, Severus thought, and he found himself wondering what had happened to change things so drastically. He shouldn't care really, he told himself. It was nothing more than idle curiosity about something he'd watched for so many years, like starting a book and wanting to read the end simply because you'd already devoted so much time reading it that you felt you deserved to know what happened on the last page. Not because you really cared of course.

Ron and Hermione entered the room a moment later, the two students greeting the Marauders enthusiastically. Severus sneered at them all. A gathering of Gryffindors. Disgusting really. He supposed now would be as good a time as any to give them some time to themselves. He needed to retrieve some of Harry's belongings from their rooms as it was -- Harry would want fresh clothing to wear when he was released. And he might appreciate a book to read if he was stuck here overly long.

Rising, he headed toward the door. "Keep your voices down," he growled to the lot of them as he left. He got the expected glares and for a moment debated deducting points from Gryffindor just because he could. But he didn't though -- reminding himself at the last minute that like it or not he owed Ron and Hermione. They had stood by Harry when no one else had. That at least should be worthy of some courtesy from him, at least until the next potions class.

He returned after a quick shower and a change of clothing, catching a bite to eat himself before gathering up Harry's belongings. He repaired Harry's glasses, thinking briefly about a possible more permanent solution to bad eyesight, then headed back toward the hospital wing. As he entered the room Poppy was in the process of kicking the four Gryffindors out for the night, much to the protest of Black. Severus, ignoring them all, moved into the room to take up his seat at Harry's side once again. This set Black off again. "Why does he get to stay then?" he protested, practically moaning to Poppy.

"You can't stay because the whole lot of you woke the boy up when he needs to sleep, then got him all worked up despite everything," Poppy informed them. "Severus can stay because I know he won't do any of those things. Now be off with you! You can see him in the morning."

She all but shoved them out the door and slammed it in their faces. Severus looked up at her as she sighed tiredly. "Worked up?" he demanded, not certain he liked the sound of that. Harry was asleep again, but his face looked a bit flushed.

Poppy just shook her head. "What is it about Gryffindors?" she asked. "Wanted to hear all the gory details of the battle. Didn't occur to any of them that Harry might not want to talk about it just yet. The boy has never been overly willing to speak about such things; you'd think they figured it out by now."

Severus frowned. Poppy was right about Harry's reticence in speaking about anything violent. It was one of the reasons they had never known he was being abused by his family. Severus suspected that Harry would much prefer to forget it all, pretend it simply hadn't happened. He certainly took no pleasure in glorifying in it the way a typical Gryffindor might. Harry saw failure where the others saw heroics. Harry saw death and damnation where the others saw victory and glory.

"I'll be in the next room if you need anything, Severus," Poppy informed him them. "I gave Harry another infection blocker, and worked a bit more on his wounds before he fell back to sleep. He should sleep through the night. But if there's any change, come get me immediately. You can sleep there on that bed if you're feeling tired." She pointed to the bed just beside Harry's.

"Thank you, Poppy," Severus informed her. "I'll be fine."

She nodded and bid him good night. Severus settled back to wait.

It was three hours before he noticed the first signs that Harry's sleep was no longer quite so peacefully. He leaned forward, watching the boy's face, seeing the signs of strain that flickered over his features, the tightening of his lips, the frown that marred his brow. He'd half been expecting it, realizing only belatedly that with all the potions they'd poured down his throat, they hadn't given him a single Dreamless Sleep Draught, something he'd been taking consistently night after night since that first nightmare Severus had disrupted.

Uncertain what precisely to do -- he didn't really want to wake Harry when he so desperately needed sleep -- Severus reached out and gently touched the boy's face. He didn't want to leave him lost to the nightmares either -- especially now that he understood what precisely it was he saw in them. The dead, he'd said. And now he had more dead to haunt him.

"Harry, it's alright. You're safe," he whispered softly, hand resting lightly against the boy's face. To his surprise, Harry turned in toward his touch and some of the tension eased from his face. Somewhat baffled, Severus stared down into the sleeping face. Maybe he thought he was his godfather? Maybe he imagined it was his godfather sitting here beside him and instinctively accepted comfort from his hand.

Or maybe the boy simply craved kindness so desperately that any gentle touch would sooth him.

Somehow that thought did little to assure Severus. He found his stomach twisting at the thought, and he drew back, removing his hand from Harry's skin. He shouldn't be touching him anyway. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't do that -- wouldn't allow himself to become attached in anyway? Maybe he should have let Black remain in his place? But then Black and the rest of the Gryffindors had managed to upset Harry in spite of all the warnings.

It was only a matter of moments before Harry was moving restlessly again, the tension returning to his features and Severus debated waking him after all. Instead he just touched him again, stroked his hair back from his forehead, took hold of one his hands in his own. Again the boy stilled and calmed. Strange, he thought. No doubt the boy would be horrified if he were to wake and find his hated Potions Master touching him in any way. And no doubt Black would go through the roof if he were to enter and see Severus Snape holding the hand of his godson.

He also had no doubt that all of Gryffindor would laugh themselves sick if they realized that for just one brief, ridiculous moment Severus Snape wished that a certain green-eyed hero would look at him the way Remus Lupin had once looked at Sirius Black.

---------------------

Severus woke a few hours later, to discover that he and Harry were no longer alone. Albus Dumbledore stood at the foot of Harry's bed staring thoughtfully at the two of them. Albus smiled when he realized Severus had awakened, his eyes gazing momentarily on the hand Severus still had resting on top of Harry's own. Embarrassed Severus immediately withdrew his touch. "He was having nightmares," he explained in a quiet whisper, not wanting the old man to think anything more of it.

Albus just nodded, his gaze turning thoughtful again as he looked down at Harry. The boy seemed to be sleeping fairly peacefully now, his breathing slow and even. "Do you care for him, Severus?" Albus asked, unexpectedly.

Surprised, Severus stared at him. "What?"

The old man just smiled again, almost indulgently. "Do you care for him? I know you'll protect him, but he needs more than just that. He needs emotional strength and stability."

Severus stared at the man in disbelief, wondering if he was really asking what he thought he was asking. "Albus, if that's what you're looking for, you picked the wrong person for the job. I am not a nice man. A Weasley would have been a better choice for coddling."

Albus smiled at that. "You're nicer than you let on, Severus." He sighed and shook his head. "But no, that's not what I meant. He doesn't need coddling."

"Albus, what's wrong?" Severus had known the man long enough to know he was worried about something.

The headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Nothing's wrong," he assured him. "Not precisely. I'm just concerned about Harry. He has a lot on his shoulders. We all do I suppose, but he. . ." He shook his head again. "You've spoken with him?" he asked Severus. "About his family?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Some," he acknowledged. "Which brings up a point I've been meaning to talk to you about. They need to be punished for what they did to him."

Albus waved his concern away with a negligent shrug. "Already taken care of, my boy," he explained. "They were suitably cursed."

"How suitably?" Severus demanded. He had several ideas in mind, and was somewhat disappointed he had not been allowed to carry them out.

Something twinkled briefly in Albus eyes, something down right vindictive and oddly enough Severus found himself strangely comforted by the idea that Albus Dumbledore could be moved by something as petty as revenge. "Well for starters they all three have come down with the most extraordinary case of claustrophobia. Incurable really. I'd venture guess that for the rest of their lives there won't be a house or building in the world big enough for them to truly feel comfortable in."

Severus thought about that, thought about what it must have been like for a small boy to spend so many years locked up in a small cupboard. Locked in the dark.

"Afraid of the dark too," Albus added as an afterthought. "Can't stand it really. Scream in holy terror when the lights go out. The mind does conjure all sorts of odd nightmares hiding in the darkness."

A lifetime of feeling trapped and terrified of things that go bump in the night. He nodded in satisfaction. "And the starvation?" he demanded. He wouldn't let that one go. Harry would probably always be small because of the malnourishment he'd suffered as a child. That should carry a life sentence as well.

"Ah," Albus nodded. "Seems they've lost all sense of taste. They can't taste a thing, will never again be able to enjoy any type of food. And from what I understand the three of them were quite fond of food -- the two males particularly. I believe it was one of the few pleasures they had in life. Oh, they can still smell it, and crave it desperately, but it is a craving that will never again be satisfied."

Severus smiled at that -- probably fitting it be something like that. He would have gone for something more sever he supposed -- blindness or the less subtle curses like eternal boils or lice. But then Albus was probably right that the punishment should better fit the crime.

"Harry hasn't said much, but I suspect they beat him more than he claimed," Severus told the Headmaster. "I know his uncle was partial to throwing objects at him." That at least deserved an actual physical thrashing --he'd take great delight in letting Vernon Dursley know precisely what it felt like to be beaten by someone stronger than himself.

"I wouldn't mind seeing them locked in Azkaban for the rest of their lives, Severus," Albus said quietly. "For what they did to a boy I left in their care, I think I could probably kill them myself."

Shocked, Severus looked up at the headmaster, stunned he would admit such a thing. There was a sad, gentle gleam in the old man's eyes. "But I also know Harry better than that," the old man explained. "And as much as you or I or Sirius Black might want to hurt them, Harry would never forgive us or himself if something truly awful happened to them."

And of course Albus was right, but Severus didn't have to like it. "Bloody Gryffindors," he cursed softly.

"Noble Gryffindors," Albus correctly. "And Harry for all his other qualities has nobility to spare."

"Other qualities?" Severus frowned at that, suspecting that the headmaster was hinting at something there.

Albus's eyes flashed almost cheekily. "He's probably never mentioned it to anyone, but the sorting hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. Harry talked it out of it."

Shocked beyond belief Severus just stared at the man. Slytherin? Harry Potter in Slytherin? Impossible! The boy didn't have an ounce of guile. . .but then he had managed to fool the Head of Slytherin about his life and his upbringing all these years, never even a hint that he wasn't exactly what he appeared to be. He kept his nightmares a secret too from all his beloved Gryffindor followers. And over these last weeks he'd proven time and time again that he was too clever by far -- turning Severus own words back on him.

Damn! Harry Potter in Slytherin. Wouldn't that have been something? No wonder Voldemort feared the boy. Wait a minute. . ."Talked it out of it? How in Merlin's name do you talk the sorting hat out of something? It's a magical artifact. It's not supposed to be ambiguous or indecisive."

Albus smiled. "Curious isn't it? And yet it still happened."

Severus let that sink in for a moment, staring down at the boy again. There was something decidedly odd about the whole thing.

"I've been doing some reading," Albus said suddenly, changing the subject. "I was curious about that spell he used. The King's Voice."

"Never heard of it," Severus admitted. "But the Granger girl is nothing if not resourceful."

"Yes," Albus agreed. "I wonder what else the two of them have researched?"

"What did you find out about the spell?"

"Apart from the fact that he shouldn't have been able to use it?" Albus asked in some amusement. Severus just rolled his eyes. Figured. Like that would ever stop Harry Potter. Albus sighed and shook his head, that thoughtful look returning to his face again, and Severus realized that something really was worrying the old man.

"What is it, Albus?"

Albus just shook his head. "They were wrong about why it fell out of use," he simply explained. "I still need to do some more research however. Some of the old texts are even hard for me to read."

"Then how did Granger learn the spell?" Severus asked. "You're not suggesting her translating skills are superior to yours?"

"Actually, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest," Albus said in delighted amusement. "But that's not what I meant. The book they read the spell from has the spell written out quite plainly in Latin. The incantation is in numerous books. No reason for it not to be. The spell is utterly useless."

"Useless?" Severus frowned, not wanting right then to deal with Albus' assessment of Hermione's intelligence. "Those Death Eaters were controlled by something."

"Yes," Albus nodded. "Curious, isn't it?" He smiled tightly to him nodding his head. "Keep an eye on him, Severus," he told him. "We need Mr. Potter, now more than ever."

And with that he turned and left, leaving Severus alone with his sleeping bond mate. First chance Severus got, he was going to do a little bit of research of his own. But then he suspected that was precisely why Albus had mentioned this subject in the first place.

-----------------

Author's Note: As you may have noticed, there's been a dynamic shift in Severus' view of Harry -- a rather important change in their relationship. However Severus doesn't really understand what it means, even though he is aware of the shift. He still sees his own actions as nothing more than duty. There's been a shift as well for Harry, but he's not even aware of it on a subconscious level yet. Those of you who are waiting for the hot steamy sex scenes have a long wait ahead of you. This is a romance -- which are slow and subtle, and in the end perhaps more long lasting.

On the Dursleys: Lots of people have been emailing me about the Dursleys and wanting to know what will happen to them. In most stories it is very rarely Albus who gets to exact revenge -- I thought it would be fitting here. And while I too think they deserve prison, the Harry in this story would suffer greatly if he knew any revenge had been taken.

However, that being said -- this is not the last of the Dursleys. They will actually be making another appearance much later in the story when odd circumstances force them to come to Hogwarts. They will not be well received.

On Wedding Rings: I've gotten several emails from people asking why Harry is wearing his wedding ring on his right hand and I thought I'd go over my reasoning for this. First, it was done intentionally. There is a lot of symbology in this story (particularly in later chapters). Much of the symbology doesn't matter all that much -- meaning if you don't get it, no big deal. Occasionally it marks a major plot point.

The wedding ring is one of those small unimportant things that I threw in just because it made me smile. In America and parts of the UK the wedding ring is always worn on the left hand. (The majority of men didn't really start wearing wedding rings regularly until WWII so this was largely a custom of women.). In very large portions of the rest of the world the wedding ring is worn on the right hand. It depends on what country you are from and what religion you belong to -- even different versions of Christianity have different customs concerning which hand to use.

Parts of the UK however have always worn it on the right hand and still do to this day. I suspect this comes from the belief that the left hand is 'evil' -- school students were even forbidden from using the left hand to write with as recently as 50 years ago. Since the Wizarding World is culturally behind the Muggle World -- and far more superstitious (with good reason) -- I thought I'd stick with some of the old world traditions and keep their wedding rings on the right hand.

Interestingly enough -- 'left' in Latin is 'sinistra' which means 'sinister'. Professor Sinistra will make an appearance soon and actually cause an interesting revelation in Harry's marriage.


	10. Chapter 10 Swords and Arrows

Author's Note: This is sort of an odd chapter as Remus, Sirius and Severus attempt to teach Harry something about the Wizarding World. What they tell him greatly changes Harry's view of the Wizarding World and its role in Muggle Society. This changing perspective will continue as a theme in this story until Harry begins to understand just what place he holds in society.

Chapter 10 -- Swords and Arrows

An old familiar, flaring pain in his forehead woke Harry from a sleep haunted by images of death and fire. The dreams too were familiar, the faces of the dead reminding him constantly of the mistakes he had made, and the lives he had taken. He almost welcomed the pain in his forehead now, for it distracted him from the pain in the rest of his body.

Opening his eyes, he noticed a dark shape sitting beside his bedside. Without his glasses, he couldn't see the features clearly, but there was no mistaking that profile framed against the bright light shining in from the window behind him. Severus Snape had a rather distinctive nose, and Harry spared a passing moment to wonder if it had been broken a time or two.

"Professor?" he asked, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. Had he been screaming?

Snape, caught in the act of staring thoughtfully out the window, turned immediately toward him at the sound. Harry wondered how long he had been there. When he'd fallen asleep, Madame Pomfrey had been attempting to kick out his godfather and the others. Had Snape sat with him all night? He thought he remembered someone stroking his hair, but surely that had been Sirius not Snape.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, awake I see," Snape greeted him, his tone resonating with his typical arrogance, and yet somehow lacking the derision Harry was used to. Harry wished he could see his features better, wondering if the man was angry with him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, sir," Harry responded automatically. He didn't really feel fine. He had a headache, and his body hurt abominably -- particularly his shoulder. But he'd live; he supposed that was good enough.

He thought he heard a snort of amusement from Snape, and he squinted up at him again, wondering if that was a twitch of smile he had seen. Surely not.

Then Snape reached for something inside his robes. "I found your glasses," he informed Harry, holding the object up. Then to Harry's surprise, rather than simply hand them to him, he placed them on Harry's face himself, slipping them carefully into position. The room came immediately into focus.

"Thank you," Harry stammered, immediately raising one hand to push the glasses more firmly onto his nose. He discovered instantly why Snape had done it for him -- moving his arm hurt! He hissed at the discovery. Snape caught his wrist and pushed it back down onto the bed.

"Let me have a look at your wound, Mr. Potter," he said tightly, and then to Harry's consternation unbuttoned his pajama top and pulled it opened, revealing a heavy white bandage on his right shoulder. Deft fingers removed the bandage swiftly and painlessly, and Harry caught a glimpse of skin blackened with bruising and a barely closed wound just below his collarbone. Snape moved away for a moment, and then was back again, a small blue bottle in one hand, an oily substance on the fingers of his other. He gently began smearing the oil over the bruised skin, those long fingers moving slowly and carefully over every inch of his wound.

Harry sucked in his breath, momentarily baffled by the events. He knew he was wounded of course -- could remember the events of yesterday quite clearly. But the reality of the wound caught him off guard. And the memory of an arrow protruding from his shoulder was tenuous and strange. Despite that, it was Snape's behavior that threw him into a riot of confusion. He couldn't recall a single time in all the years he'd know Snape that the man had ever touched him with such gentleness.

Actually he could only recall a handful of times the man had touched him period -- and never once to stroke his skin as he was now doing. It was strangely intimate, though he doubted he'd have the same thought if it had been Madame Pomfrey doing it.

But that was just it, wasn't it. This was Madame Pomfrey's job. So why was Snape doing it instead?

But the pain was fading in a most welcomed fashion, and those fingers did feel oddly soothing.

And then Snape was replacing the old bandage with a new one, pulling his pajamas closed and buttoning them back up before Harry could muster up the nerve to say anything in protest. A moment later Snape was sitting down beside him once again, cleaning his hands off on a small cloth, and the whole thing was over.

"How do the other wounds feel?" he asked clinically.

Harry flexed his other arm carefully, remembering having been pierced by a piece of wood. There was a twinge of pain, but nothing severe. And his leg -- he flexed his calf. More than a twinge there, but nothing like the pain that had stabbed through his shoulder. "Not as bad," he told Snape.

"Poppy was able to heal those two more completely," Snape explained. "Your bicep was easily mended, and the arrow in your leg missed the bone and went through cleanly. You're very lucky you weren't hurt worse."

Harry frowned, wondering if this was where he'd get the lecture on how he was to blame for what had happened. But nothing more was forthcoming and he glanced up uncertainly at Snape. The man seemed almost pensive. "Were many other people injured?" Ron and Hermione had both looked fine yesterday when they had visited him. But he remembered seeing other people lying in the street. He didn't want to think about the three Death Eaters just yet.

Snape eyes darkened thoughtfully. "There were four people killed -- Hogsmeade residents. And there were about a dozen wounded -- but no one else as severely as you."

Four people killed. Harry paled. They must have gone down in the initial volley while he was diving for cover. He should have yelled something when he'd seen the Death Eaters coming toward him -- should have warned the people in the street to dive for cover instead of just saving himself.

"It's not your fault," Snape's voice was firm and somewhat angry. The sound startled him and he looked up in surprise.

"I saw them in the weapons shop," he explained. "I should have--"

"No," Snape cut him off. "It's not your fault. They saw you, they attacked. The blame lies entirely with them. As for the people in the street -- there were dozens of fully trained wizards and witches out there, and not one of them returned fire. Let them take the blame for their own cowardice."

Harry felt a flare of anger at his words. "They're shopkeepers and merchants. You can't expect them to-- "

"No," Snape cut him off again. "I suppose it would be utterly foolish of me to expect shopkeepers and merchants to act like heroes. About as foolish as it would be for a sixteen-year-old boy to take the blame for the actions of a group of evil psychopaths he has no hope of controlling."

Harry blinked at him in surprise. He wasn't certain, but he thought Snape had just perhaps complimented him, implied that he had acted like a hero while trying to ease his guilt at the same time. He wasn't certain how to take that -- not used to receiving compliments from Snape.

A sound at the door spared him from responding, and a moment later Sirius and Remus entered the room, smiling brightly when they saw that Harry was awake. He grinned at them both, noting the glare his godfather threw Snape. He vaguely remembered asking his godfather not to fight with Snape, worried about what might happen. Sirius was somewhat hotheaded, and he didn't want him getting in trouble. Not to mention the fact that Snape didn't deserve Sirius's anger -- the man had saved his life yesterday, and not for the first time. He could still remember the relief that had washed over him when he'd seen Snape and Dumbledore arriving in the midst of the fire.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Sirius asked, followed by a dozen more questions about his wounds, his aches, his pains, his fever, his sleep, his treatment. Harry was a bit overwhelmed by the man's attention, though it was nice to have someone worry over him -- he'd never experienced that as a child. The few times he'd been sick as a child, his aunt had simply locked him in the cupboard and peeked in once every day or so to see if he were dead yet. He could vaguely recall her being disappointed every time he recovered.

Remus merely smiled at Harry and watched Sirius with a look of amused indulgence in his warm eyes. Snape just watched in stony silence, and Harry found himself actually surprised that the Potions Master hadn't left at the first opportunity. Madame Pomfrey entered, shoeing them away from his bedside. She checked him over swiftly, pronounced his wounds as healing nicely, and then went off to find him some breakfast while the three men returned to his side, settling back down in chairs around his bed. Again Harry was surprised that Snape chose to remain in the company of the two Marauders.

"I spoke with the Auror in charge of the investigation in Hogsmeade," Remus informed Harry after they had settled back down. "Apparently those Death Eaters were attempting to purchase a rather large quantity of weapons from a store owner. There have been other such purchases in other cities all over England."

Harry frowned at that, understanding the implications. Voldemort was amassing his army -- and arming them for battle apparently. But the Muggle side of Harry was baffled by the details. "Why crossbows and swords?" he asked in confusion. "Wouldn't machine guns be a lot more practical? Seems to me a M16 could do a hell of lot more damage than a crossbow."

"Muggle weapons?" Remus shook his head. "They're really not that useful against wizards, Harry."

Sirius nodded in agreement. "I'm not certain what an M16 is, but I'm assuming it's a gun of some sort. And they all require some form of gunpowder to work -- there are a dozen different spells that can render gunpowder useless."

He hadn't thought of that -- but he supposed without the gunpowder the guns wouldn't be able to fire. "But then why not just put spells on the guns to protect them from those spells?"

"It wouldn't make much of a difference, Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "Even if the guns did fire, it's quite easy to shield against the bullets. Even the Muggles can build body armor that deflects bullets. It's easy enough for a wizard to do the same thing."

"Then put spells on the bullets to penetrate the shields," Harry insisted.

"Putting a protective spell on an object and putting a spell on an object to make it do something specific are two very different things," Remus replied. "The first is common magic, easily done. The second however is not common -- you are in essence creating a magical artifact. And while not impossible to do, it is difficult, and it requires a stable structure."

"Stable structure?" Harry frowned, glancing back and forth curiously between the three men. Wasn't every day he got a lesson in weapons design, particularly not from this unlikely trio.

"A sword does not change its shape or structure when it is used," Snape explained. "Neither does an arrow. A bullet on the other hand changes drastically. It is superheated by the initial explosion of gunpowder, and it becomes flattened or misshapen on impact. It doesn't retain any sort of stable structure, so it can't hold a spell. The same goes for Muggle explosive devices."

"Then Voldemort will use swords and arrows?" Harry asked. He had always assumed that the Wizarding World kept themselves hidden from the Muggle World out of fear -- that if it came right down to a fight, Muggle technology would overwhelm the Wizarding World. But if what he was understanding was right, that was not the case at all. Perhaps it was the Muggle World they protected by staying hidden?

"But who even knows how to use a sword nowadays?" Harry asked. In culture and fashion the Wizarding World reminded him of something out of the middle ages, but he had yet to see any sort of sword fighting. So far the Death Eaters had relied entirely on magic and their wands to fight their battles. The two arrows he'd been shot with had been his first exposure to such an attack.

"If I remember correctly, Severus is an excellent swordsman," Remus remarked mildly. "And Sirius wasn't so bad a long time ago."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced between Snape and Sirius in confusion, wondering if Remus was joking. Snape's features were unreadable as usual, but Sirius had an odd twisted smile on his lips.

"It's common practice amongst all the older pureblood families to teach their children swordplay and archery, Harry," his godfather explained. "I learned what I had to, so did your father. He was actually quite a decent archer, though he never cared for the sword. But it was the Slytherins who took the training seriously."

"I don't understand," Harry protested. "If it's so common why don't we learn it in school?" He hadn't known the first thing about using a sword when he'd killed the Basilisk in second year with Godric Gryffindor's sword -- the idea that he 'should' have known something was alarming.

"That's because polite society frowns on the practice, Harry," Remus explained. "Can you honestly imagine someone like Arthur Weasley condoning something so violent?"

"Violent?"

"Blood sports, Harry," Sirius explained, throwing a dark glare at Snape. "Sword duels with live weapons. They're officially frowned upon, but the Ministry never actually banned them -- something 'certain' families took full advantage of." There was no doubt by the tone of his voice which families he was implying.

Harry suddenly remembered his first night in Snape's chambers -- seeing the faint scars upon pale skin. He recalled his surprise at how toned and fit Snape was, wondering what it was he did to keep himself in such good shape. And he remembered thinking that the scars looked as if they had come from knife wounds. He looked up at Snape in shock. "The scars," he whispered softly, his words barely audible. Not knives, but swords.

Snape's eyes narrowed at Harry's words, and Harry flushed remembering that he really shouldn't have been staring so intently at the man that night. And he was certain the last thing he wanted to do was explain to Sirius that he'd seen scars upon Snape's body while he was sleeping in the man's bed. His godfather would go through the roof.

"Snape here was quite fond of sword play, weren't you, Snape," Sirius continued, having missed Harry's words. "Had a sword laced with silver if I remember correctly." His words were hard and filled with anger, and had a profound affect on both Remus and Snape. Remus stiffened, his features growing shuttered and distant. Snape rose swiftly to his feet, Sirius immediately mirroring his action on the opposite side of Harry's bed. Harry knew there was a lot of bad blood between the lot of them, and he understood what the significance a silver-laced sword would hold for a werewolf. But watching Snape and Sirius tear each other apart over something that happened over twenty years ago wasn't going to help anyone, and Harry could see that the two were about to leap at each other's throats.

Harry reacted without thinking, scrambling up onto his knees on the bed, his hands shooting out to either side, palms connecting with the chest of both men before they could move toward one another, Harry's own body between them. A second after he moved he regretted it -- of course then it was too late -- pain flared through him, and he felt the wound in his shoulder ripping open. His hands closed convulsively in pain, fingers tangling in the shirts of both men as a moment later that was all that was keeping him upright.

"Harry!" Sirius and Snape caught him at the same time, before he could pitch face forward on the bed. He hissed in agony, body going limp as the two of them lowered him back down onto the mattress. His head swam with blackness mixed with flashes of painful light.

"Get his shirt open," someone ordered -- Snape he thought; and then he felt trembling hands at his buttons -- Sirius this time.

"Merlin! He's bleeding again!" definitely Sirius that time, voice filled with panic -- someone else called for Madame Pomfrey. He felt the soothing fingers returning, stroking his burning flesh -- Snape taking away the pain once more as he tried to fight his way back to full consciousness. Not easy to do when his head was spinning.

And then distantly he heard Madame Pomfrey's voice, murmuring softly, soothing him, murmuring again, and then finally yelling in anger. "Out! Out! Both of you! The polite, quiet werewolf can stay but you two idiots can get out of my hospital right now!"

More protesting -- Sirius and Snape both this time. And then finally blessed silence. Harry let himself drift for a while, slipping in and out of sleep before he finally roused himself with the thought that he should make certain Sirius and Snape hadn't killed one another yet.

Opening his eyes, he found Remus seated alone beside him, a worried look on his face. "They kill each other?" Harry asked weakly.

Remus just shook his head. "No, ripping open your own wound right in front of them was an effective deterrent. How are you feeling?"

"Immensely stupid," Harry replied. "Forgot I was wounded."

"Those two have a talent for driving people to distraction," Remus smiled. "Sirius isn't handling this whole marriage thing that well."

"Guess Snape's the last person he would have picked," Harry laughed weakly.

"Pretty much," Remus agreed. "Of course it's not just Snape; I don't think Sirius is all that crazy about marriage in general. He was never big on monogamy."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Wasn't often he got to hear pieces of information like that about his godfather -- certain subjects had sort of been off limits. Dating hadn't been something either of them had ever been comfortable talking about. But before Harry could ask questions, Remus moved on. "I meant to ask, how did Severus get chosen? I heard about Fudge's adoption scheme and why you had to get married. But wouldn't Hermione have been a better choice for you? Or one of the Weasleys? I would have guessed Ginny would have been happy to marry you."

"Ginny was too young," Harry admitted. "She was not yet fifteen. And Hermione. . ." Harry broke off and shook his head. "She's like a sister to me, and besides Ron likes her."

Remus nodded in understanding. "What about Bill or Charlie then? Or surely there must be a dozen young women in this school who would have been happy to step in?"

"Well, part of the problem was everyone said Fudge would probably contest the marriage," Harry explained. "Which meant they needed to find someone who had both the money and the power to stand up to the Ministry, which didn't leave a whole lot of options. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't think their family had enough influence. And then there was this whole thing with something called the Marriage Stone."

Remus' eyes widened in shock. "The Marriage Stone? Dumbledore used the Marriage Stone? That thing has been responsible for some of the most disastrous marriages in Wizarding history. No one uses it anymore."

"I heard about the Guinnevere-Lancelot thing."

"Not to mention the Trojan War -- Helen looked into it and instead of seeing her husband King Menalaus, she saw the Trojan Prince Paris and promptly ran off with him," Remus told him.

"Dumbledore said it was safe enough as long as you weren't already married when you looked into it," Harry said sheepishly.

"But what if the person it showed you had been married already?" Remus asked. "What if you'd looked into it and it had shown you that your perfect match was this beautiful amazing woman who was already married to someone else. The idea of a perfect match, a soul mate so to speak, is a very powerful concept. No matter how honorable your intentions, somewhere in the back of your mind you'd always wonder about what might have been -- that's often all it takes to ensure that someone's never truly happy."

"Well, that didn't happen," Harry said hesitantly, thinking once again that Dumbledore was perhaps slightly more off his rocker than he thought. Seemed a ridiculous risk to take.

Remus just shook his head ruefully. "No, it didn't. Instead it showed you Severus Snape. You must have been thrilled."

It was said with such a deadpan tone of voice, Harry had no choice but to laugh. "You can't begin to imagine," he agreed. "Madam Hooch was convinced that it was broken. I'm inclined to agree with her."

"You two aren't getting along?" Remus guessed.

"No," Harry shook his head vehemently, and then paused realizing that wasn't entirely true. "Well . . ." he sighed. "Maybe a little bit. Better than I thought anyway. But mostly we just hate each other."

Remus stared thoughtfully down at him for a long minute. "He sat with you all night you know," he said softly.

Which answered the question Harry had asked himself earlier. "I didn't say he wasn't a good person. . ." he broke off, not certain what exactly he was saying. "Remus, did he really have a silver-laced sword?"

Remus sighed, a look of profound sadness flooding his eyes. "Harry, that was a long time ago, and we all made so many mistakes back then. We've all changed. There was a time when I would have told you quite adamantly that I hated him. That he was a Death Eater, and a murderer. But I was wrong. I've moved passed all that. Don't let Sirius's anger make you think I share his feelings. I don't."

"Why can't Sirius get past it?"

"Sirius is still trying to piece his memory back together from Azkaban. And unfortunately for him, some of those memories seem like they happened yesterday. He lost twelve years of his life, and he's still trying to catch up. For me the changes in all our situations happened gradually. For Sirius, they happened over night. He's having a hard time accepting a lot of things. He hasn't even really had a chance to deal with your parents' death. He was never given a chance to grieve, let alone accept the fact that Severus was one of the good guys instead of one of their killers. He never saw any of the trials, never heard about anything Severus did for Dumbledore. To him it's like he fell asleep believing one thing, and woke up to discover everyone around him suddenly believes something completely different. You mix yourself into the equation and it just becomes all the more volatile. You're all he's got left."

"He's got you," Harry reminded him. Sirius had both of them.

An odd look crossed over Remus' features and he gave Harry a somewhat twisted smile. "Yeah, he's got me," he agreed softly. "He's just not certain what to do with me."

"What?" Harry stared at him in confusion, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

Remus just shook his head and smiled at him. "Nothing," he assured him. "Sirius is just a bit impulsive some times, and gets some crazy ideas into his head. Don't go letting him stir things up between you and Severus. And what ever you do, don't get between them again. I thought the poor man was going to have a heart attack when you collapsed."

"I didn't want them fighting," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"Guilt works pretty well," Remus told him. "And when all else fails, a rolled up newspaper across the nose usually does the trick."

That almost sounded like something Snape would have said, and the very idea made Harry laugh. "I'm glad you're here, Remus," he said quietly, grateful that his godfather had such a friend at his side, watching his back. It hurt to think of Sirius out there alone on the run from the Ministry and Dementors.

Remus just smiled gently at him, reaching out to pat his hand. "Wouldn't be anywhere else, Harry."

------------------------

Author's Note: On metallurgy -- not that I know much about the subject, but it seems to me that lacing silver into the metal of sword would substantially weaken the blade. Despite this - I liked the idea. And I'm certain the Wizarding World has a magical mean of tempering steel beyond anything a Muggle could manage.


	11. Chapter 11 Confronting Gryffindors

Chapter 11 -- Confronting Gryffindors

Severus Snape stormed angrily through the halls of Hogwarts, students leaping out of his way as he passed them. His only consolation was that Sirius Black was stuck back in his dog form and banished from the hospital wing like he was. The rabid mongrel never could hold his tongue! And if Black knew Harry even half as well as Severus did, he would have known the crazy Gryffindor would throw himself on a sword to protect his godfather; he should have known he'd try to keep them from fighting. Ripping open his own wound like that. . . .

Severus shook the memory away, not wanting to think on it any more. That foolish boy was his own worst enemy sometimes! And now thanks to Black he couldn't watch over him.

Poppy would calm down eventually, he told himself. And Lupin was still there. Lycanthropy aside, Lupin was decent enough.

"Professor?"

Snape turned in surprise, shocked that one of the little brats in the hallway actually had the gall to speak to him -- despite the scowl on his face warning them all off. Hermione and Ron stood behind him, and he stifled the angry words that sprang to his lips.

"Yes?" he bit out instead.

"We were just on our way to see Harry," Hermione explained. "Is he doing any better?"

"If you can manage to keep that rabid dog away from him, I'm sure he'll make a full recovery," Snape informed them, noting the flush that crossed both their features. He signed inwardly -- they were all Gryffindors of course -- loyal to the bone, and sadly that included Black.

"He loves Harry!" Ron protested, leaping at once to Black's defense. "And he can take care of him better than--" Hermione elbowed Ron hard in the side, shutting him up before he could finish his statement which Snape would no doubt have to take him to task over. He wondered if it was worth bothering to remind the idiot that Black had broken Ron's leg in third year.

"Ms. Granger, I want to talk to you about something," Snape dismissed Ron from his notice, turning his attention entirely on Hermione as something the Headmaster had said last night came back to him.

She started to protest, but he held a hand up to stop her. "Potter will still be there when we're through. Mr. Weasley, you can run along and visit him if Madame Pomfrey allows it. Ms. Granger can join you later."

They both looked as if they were going to argue, but said nothing, Hermione just motioning Ron to go along without her. Ron threw a resentful look back at Snape as he headed off toward the hospital wing.

Severus led Hermione back to his office, motioning her inside before closing the door and sitting down behind his desk. She sat in the chair opposite him, staring at him curiously. She had never had quite the same fear of him as the other students, though he'd certainly been cruel enough toward her. Hard to maintain the fiction of loyal Death Eater who favored his Slytherin allies when faced with such a brilliant Gryffindor. Giving Draco Malfoy marks equal to Granger's had galled him to no end -- he'd met very few people who could match the girl's intellect.

"You and Potter researched spells last year?" he asked, reminding her of the conversation they had with the Auror yesterday.

Hermione frowned pensively, but nodded her head.

"For extra credit?" he asked, already suspecting the answer she would give.

She stared at him thoughtfully, as if trying to come to some sort of a decision. Finally she shook her head. "No, sir, it wasn't school work exactly. We just thought that Harry should have some extra help with some things."

"Go on," he prompted.

Hermione sighed. "Defense Against the Dark Arts classes haven't exactly been overly helpful," she pointed out, sounded somewhat irritated. "Professor Quirrell and Lockhart were useless. Professor Moody turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise and he spent all his time teaching us the Unforgivables, which Harry doesn't want to use. And all Professor Mackrel taught us last year was how to recognize poisoned food. Professor Lupin's been the only decent teacher we've ever had." She didn't bother hiding her resentment of the fact that he was responsible for Lupin's dismissal. At the time, he hadn't had much of a choice. Lucius Malfoy had insisted he find a way of getting rid of him, and exposing him as a werewolf had been the only thing he could think of. And truth of matter was, Lupin had screwed up -- his failure to take his potion had nearly cost them several lives.

"In any event, sir, we just figured that if Harry was going to survive Voldemort's attacks, then it was up to us to prepare him," Hermione continued, and Snape had to admire her for her initiative. "So we began studying on our own."

"That was good thinking, Ms. Granger," Snape said grudgingly, noting the look of surprise in her face when she realized he had complimented her. "What can you tell me about this King's Voice spell?" What ever it was Albus had discovered about the spell had startled him -- and very few things startled Albus Dumbledore after over a century and a half.

"Well, it's like I said yesterday, sir," Hermione explained. "It was a precursor to the Imperious. But it doesn't seem to be as powerful as the Imperious, but it's just as effective if it works."

"If it works?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "That's just it, sir. It doesn't seem to work very well -- I never got it to work. Neither did Ron when he tried it."

"But it worked for Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed. "We figured it required someone really powerful to use it, which is probably another reason it fell out of favor."

"Did you find other spells that had fallen out of favor?"

"There were a number of them," she admitted. "Though most of them weren't any use to us. It's not like you can practice demon banishing spells on your friends. You sort of have to summon a demon first."

Severus paled at that. "Ms. Granger, I hope to God you haven't been messing around with demon summoning?" That particular area of knowledge was considered perhaps the darkest of all the Dark Arts, and there was no way to play at it without tainting your own soul irrevocably.

"Of course not, sir!" Hermione exclaimed in shock, and the look of outrage on her face relieved him far more than he cared to admit. The thought that Harry Potter of all people might have dabbled in such darkness alarmed him in ways he didn't want to think about. "Contrary to your preconceived notions, we aren't stupid! And if Harry won't use the Unforgivables even in his own defense, why would you think he would mess around with something like that?"

"Ms. Granger, you are laboring under a number of misconceptions. It is not your intelligence I question, but the Gryffindor nature to rush in blindly."

He saw by the flicker of amusement in her eyes that she recognized his backhanded compliment. Smart little witch; he could almost grow to like her. "You know, sir, Slytherins do not have the market cornered on guile."

"So the Headmaster likes to inform me," Severus agreed mildly. "Thank you, Ms. Granger. That will be all."

She stood to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back at him. "Professor, why doesn't the Headmaster do something about our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes? Professor Dubloise this year is just as bad as Professor Mackrel was. Surely he could find a better teacher?"

Severus frowned at her. "You mean why aren't I teaching the class?"

She nodded.

"Because it wouldn't make any difference, Ms. Granger," he informed her. "It is a little known fact, but the majority of all wizards and witches have absolutely no talent whatsoever for the Dark Arts or the Defense Against them. It requires a very specific temperament. It's one of the reasons the requirements are so strict for becoming an Auror. Very few people are suited to it. And pointing out their lack of defensive ability to the majority of the public generally causes panic. Those with the proper temperament -- such as yourself and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley -- will learn what they need to in spite of anything else."

"But everyone learned the basics when Professor Lupin taught the class," Hermione protested.

"I didn't say they couldn't learn the spells, Ms. Granger," Severus reminded her. "I said they lacked the temperament. Despite Professor Lupin's brilliant teaching, do you have any idea how many students still suffer from nightmares about boggarts and kappas from those classes? Being the one who brews Dreamless Sleep Draught for Madame Pomfrey, I do."

He could see his words shocked her. "But we defeated the boggarts, and we learned how to escape from kappas! Why would they still be afraid of them?"

"Why indeed?" Severus agreed, finding the idea as ridiculous as she did, despite the fact that it was nevertheless true. "Yesterday you were surrounded by adult wizards and witches who are perfectly capable of throwing shielding spells and hexes, not to mention a number of seventh-years who studied under Lupin. And certainly any proprietor of a bookstore should have known a spell to at least freeze the fire that threatened to burn down his business. And yet not one of them raised a wand to help you. I can assure you that the best teachers in the world in Defense Against the Dark Arts would not change that pathetic little fact. It will always be a select few who are called upon to defend the masses. Why else would the entire Wizarding World put their hopes in the hands of a boy who has not even finished school yet?"

"I always thought that was a little ridiculous myself," Hermione admitted.

"Indeed," Severus agreed.

She smiled suddenly. "Then I guess we're all just lucky that Harry has been up to the task." Intellect or no, she was still a Gryffindor and her loyalty to Potter wouldn't waver.

Severus had to admire her for it. "Perhaps Mr. Potter is simply lucky in the friends he has chosen."

She looked startled again -- this compliment less subtle, and about as close as he was going to come to thanking her for what she had done yesterday. She smiled at him, seemed about to say something, then changed her mind. "Good day, Professor," she said instead, pulling open the door.

"Good day, Ms. Granger."

Left alone, Severus turned his attention to the puzzle Albus had left for him. The King's Voice. He found it highly unlikely that Harry Potter could do a spell that Hermione Granger was unable to manage -- which meant there was something more going on here. Albus had said that Harry shouldn't have been able to use the spell either. It looked like he had some research to do.

He returned to his own chambers, deciding to try his own private library first for references to the spell. But as he approached his chamber door, he realized immediately that his research would have to be delayed a while yet. Standing in front of the portrait to his room was a Grim.

Severus stopped and stared at the large black dog that was gazing balefully back at him in the darkened corridor. Sirius Black in his animal form was intimidating, though Severus would never admit that out loud. He was the size of an Irish Wolfhound and possessed a menacing air, eyes gleaming with the cold killing gaze of a wolf. All things considered, he and Lupin were well matched.

Severus fought the impulse to go for his wand, standing instead stock still in the hallway, meeting the dark gaze with one equally dark. He had a decision to make he realized, and like it or not the next move was his. Sirius had made his move in coming here in the first place.

He wanted to hex him, or at the very least drive him away. But he couldn't help think of the smile that had lit up Harry's face when he'd seen his godfather beside him. Harry loved Sirius Black, completely, utterly, unconditionally. And the facts were simple -- if Severus drove Black away, harmed him, hurt him, or attempted to keep him from Harry's life, then Harry would hate him forever.

He thought sometimes that Harry's feelings for him had softened just a little -- that while there was no affection or fondness, the boy did not dislike him so completely as he once had, despite his numerous declarations of hatred. And though Severus was loathed to admit it, sometime in the last few weeks, Harry's opinion had come to matter to him. Somehow, despite everything that stood between them and against them, despite every reason he had to despise that boy and all the annoyances he brought to his life, Harry had succeeded in capturing Severus's admiration as completely as he had the rest of the Wizarding World. He was not willing to dwell on the fact that perhaps admiration wasn't all he had captured.

Thus the decision.

Sirius Black. His rival. His enemy. His tormentor. The man his bond-mate loved.

Severus Snape walked forward, spoke his password, and for the first time in his life let Sirius Black into his home.

--------------------------

Author's Note: At long last the confrontation between Sirius and Snape begins. Once again the demands of Wizarding propriety will change the outcome.

I also wanted to thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing my story! I'm trying to respond to the messages, but at the moment I'm about 150 messages behind, and the number is vastly increasing. Hopefully I can answer some of your questions (I get a lot of repeat questions) in my author's notes.

On Remus: Yes, his behavior will be explained -- you'll get to see the development of the relationship between our two favorite mutts.

Sword fighting: The idea of swords vs guns is one I played around with a lot. It's important to this story that there is a definitive line between Wizards and Muggles -- this will be examined repeatedly later on and becomes a major plot point eventually. Will Severus teach Harry to sword fight? I don't know...I'm currently about 140,000 words into the story and there literally hasn't been a chance for the two of them to do so. That doesn't mean there won't be a chance eventually. Regardless the concept continues to become more important as the story progresses. Incidentally -- sword fighting isn't a skill you can just 'pick up'. It takes long years of practice to learn the art, and many hours of training to condition your muscles. Harry wouldn't learn overnight.

Occlumency: This was introduced in Book 5 and I'm not really including stuff from Book 5. However I have noticed in later chapters I mention both it and Legilimency in passing -- so will it be included, yes. Will it be important, no. Harry's visions come from a different source (you won't find out what source until much later). Consequently Occlumency lessons wouldn't do him any good.

On Male-Pregnancy: To be honest with you, I'm not a huge fan of the idea (though I've read several stories that have handled it well). In nature there really aren't any male creatures who are capable of getting pregnant -- well, except for seahorses of course. In HP fandom we have Magic to explain the concept -- but I think a far more logical solution to this would be to simply have your male character (or female in a f/f partnership) take a potion to temporarily change their gender.

This concept appears in magical tradition in numerous places. Asian myths have stories about magical pools of water that can change both your gender and your shape simply by touching them. The prophet Tyreseus supposedly spent half his life as a man and the other half as a woman. Many gods of many different mythologies regularly changed gender. Supposedly the God Hermes was a Hermaphrodite who could appear as either a man or woman.

Seems to me with Magic it would be a lot simpler for the characters to change their gender rather than become pregnant in a body not designed for pregnancy.

Regardless, the issue of an heir will actually come up in the story much later on -- but no, I don't plan on having any male-pregnancy. I don't really see Severus as a maternal type, and considering how my Harry reacted to the mere idea of being the 'housewife' I don't think he'd be two keen on being pregnant.


	12. Chapter 12 Placing Blame

Chapter 12 -- Placing Blame

He thought that Black would transform the moment his door was shut. He was mistaken, and he watched in annoyance as the dog began moving quickly through his chambers, nose sniffing everything he moved passed. Severus wanted to protest, wanted to catch the loathsome creature in a body bind and stop this rude invasion. But he had made his decision, and there was no point in denying these actions. They were inevitable, and he had to accept what was to come -- if only to get it over with.

Still, some insult would be appropriate. "You piss on anything Black and I'll skin you for a hearth rug," he sneered. The dog growled low in his throat, but did not stop his incessant sniffing. Severus sat down in front of his fireplace, and watched in silence.

Harry's desk was given a close inspection, and the dog had the audacity to wag his tail as he sniffed the cloak the boy had left draped over the back of his chair.

Everything else in the room was inspected, and Severus had to admit that Black's nose must be extraordinary as he managed to pick out everything that the boy had touched. He moved on then to the other rooms, sniffing the door around the potions lab before his hackles raised and he moved on, as if knowing that at least one room in this place was Severus' domain completely. Save for their one impromptu lesson, Harry had avoided his lab.

His office received only a cursory sniff as well; Harry rarely went there either, save to borrow some parchment or quills. The library however was given a thorough going over. Harry often read in there. He'd asked at first, if he could read the books, borrow one from time to time. Severus had given him permission, and had out of curiosity kept track of what the boy found interesting. Spell books, charms, defense against the dark arts -- he'd had the gall to ask one night why Severus didn't own any books on Quidditch. Surprisingly, the boy had always left the library in the same condition he found it, never a book out of place, all save that one time when he'd fought with Severus about his clothes. Severus had heard the books flying off the shelves when the angry young man had locked himself in there -- unrestrained, wandless magic sending them flying. He'd put them to rights himself, never mentioning it to Harry again.

And then to Severus' utter annoyance, Black moved from the library to the bedroom, pushing open the door with his snout without even a backward glance for permission. He listened in silence, guessing at least part of the conversation that was going to take place in a few moments -- assuming Black didn't simply go for his throat instead. The growls coming from the bedroom suggested that violence might indeed be the outcome, and Severus quietly moved his fingers toward his wand, ready to pull it out if it became necessary.

But Black didn't come out immediately, choosing instead to search the room entirely before returning to the main room. When he stepped back through the bedroom door he was once again in his human form, his face as dark as a thundercloud. Anger and menace were radiating off the man as he stood in the doorway glaring at him.

"You force him to sleep in your bed." The words from Black's mouth were hard, cold, and filled with accusation and hatred.

Severus held his temper, only because he knew this had been coming. "I don't force him to do anything, Black," he stated, his voice just as hard, just as cold. "He is my bond-mate, not my prisoner. And if you thought about it even for a moment, you'd realize that not even Voldemort has had success with forcing that boy to do anything he didn't want to do."

Something flickered through Black's eyes. Surprise, Severus thought, though it was quickly masked. "You're suggesting he wants to sleep in your bed?" It was obvious from his tone that Black was implying the exact opposite.

"No, Black," Severus snarled. "I can assure you that he quite detested the idea. As did I."

Black's eyes narrowed at that, obviously disbelieving the later statement. But then Severus had to concede it had been a poor lie -- he had wanted to detest it, but Potter was too blasted attractive for it to be true.

"But neither of us had much choice in the matter," Severus continued quickly. "Minister Fudge forced both of us into this situation by his actions."

"You're telling me that the great Severus Snape can't remember how to transfigure up a second bed?" Black mocked, jaw clenched.

Severus glared back, wondering if twelve years in Azkaban had really addled the man's brain so completely. "Two weeks ago I discovered a Wandering Eye Charm on Potter's broom, no doubt put there by one of my Slytherin students at the request of their parents. By the time I found it, the Eye had already made a complete search of these quarters. All Fudge needs is a single excuse that this marriage is invalid. A second bed would certainly have been excuse enough."

Something flared in Black's eyes, and Severus could see the man biting back some retort. His jaw never relaxed. "Is that why you were chosen? Because no one would imagine that the marriage was not valid?" He spoke the word valid with contempt. "Because no one would imagine that you would not take full advantage of Harry the moment you had him alone?"

Severus fought down his own rage. He was used to such accusations, had in fact cultivated the reputation. "That was one of the reasons," he admitted. "The fact that we had approximately fifteen minutes to find someone suitable didn't help matters either."

"Really?" Black's eyes flashed with anger. "You're telling me there was no one else in this castle who was suitable? I suppose Sonara Sinistra was out of town at the time?"

Severus stiffened as he stared at Black in utter shock. Sinistra! He couldn't believe the man was suggesting such a thing. "You know, Black, despite all the things I have thought of you over the years, I have never believed you had anything but Potter's best interest at heart. Until now."

Black's eyes widened and he took several steps toward him before catching himself. "His best interest! You must think very highly of yourself if you think -- "

"Do you have any idea how starved for affection that boy is?" Severus silenced Black's tirade quite effectively with those words. The man's face paled as if Severus had struck him.

"I'll grant you," Severus continued, "that Sonara Sinistra would most likely have jumped at the chance to marry the Boy Who Lived. It's something no social climber would ever refuse. And I'll grant you that no one would deny the validity of such a marriage, something that would be true in fact as well as appearance most likely that very night. Sinistra's appetites are very well known."

Sonara Sinistra went through young men the way other women went through clothes. Students were off limits to her, but everyone on the Hogwarts' staff knew what she meant by the 'Seventh Year Hunt'. The moment the semester let out for the summer session, Sinistra went after the best and brightest of the graduated class.

"No doubt Sinistra would have rocked Mr. Potter's world," Severus went on. "Would have had him believing that the sun rose and set with her. For about a week. Then she would have lost all interest in him, and moved on to someone else. She would have left your godson heartbroken and betrayed. For all his courage and maturity, he is still a sixteen-year-old boy who desperately wants to be loved. Sinistra would have chewed him up and spit him out."

Black stood there in silence, face still pale. Sinistra had obviously been his capital argument and he seemed uncertain where to go now that Severus had so clearly pointed out the ridiculousness of the situation. Truth was, Sinistra hadn't even occurred to any of them that night -- would have been dismissed by all of them if she had been. Even he, who had been ready to fight tooth and nail against marrying Potter himself, would not have accepted Sinistra as a possible substitute. Sinistra would have destroyed Potter more effectively than anything Voldemort had come up with.

He made a note to himself to keep an eye on Sinistra -- Potter was no longer precisely off limits to her. As a married man, he did not have the same protections as the rest of the students. And he knew for a fact that marriage would be no deterrent to her -- indeed many older wizards and witches preferred to have affairs with younger married men and women who would understand that the union was casual and that nothing would ever come of it.

"There was no one else?" Black asked then, his tone indicating that he had obviously accepted the fact that Sinistra had not been a possibility.

"We had fifteen minutes, Black. Who would you have suggested? McGonagall, perhaps? No one would have bought that." With the exception of Trelawney and Sinistra, all the other female staff members were married. Even Black wouldn't suggest that Trelawney had the strength to go up against Fudge. "We needed someone who was believable. Someone who had enough standing to face down the Ministry. And someone strong enough to protect Potter from Voldemort. Who would you have suggested?"

Black didn't answer. Rather he turned away from Severus and began pacing restlessly around the room in silence. Severus waited, watching him, not really knowing how to read the play of emotion on the man's face. He really expected more argument from the man. It had never occurred to him that Black might actually consider his words -- might actually look at the situation logically. He didn't think the Gryffindor had even known how to reason.

Finally Black's pacing took him near Severus, and he dropped down into the chair across from him. There was a look of defeat in the man's face, and Severus stifled back his taunt of glee that he'd actually won the argument.

"Well, I suppose we don't have to worry that Harry might accidentally fall in love with you," Black said flatly, obviously still thinking about what Severus had said about Sinistra. The comment stung no doubt a great deal more than Black had intended.

"No, I doubt you'll ever have to worry about that," Severus bit out, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice.

Black looked up at him, his gaze hardening again. "If I ever find out that you tried to force yourself--"

"Don't finish that statement!" Severus cut him off swiftly. "I would have no choice but to take offence. And if we are to educate Mr. Potter in proper Wizarding customs, he too would have no choice but to take offense." He could no more let that insult go than he could have let Draco Malfoy's insults to Harry pass unremarked.

Again, to his surprise, Black conceded, making no attempt to finish what he'd been about say. His gaze however did not waver. "Just so we're clear on the subject," he stated coldly.

"Perfectly," Severus growled.

They sat in silence again, and Severus waited for Black to deliver what ever parting shot he'd prepared before leaving. Far as he was concerned, they were done discussing what they inevitably had to clash over. Black, however, surprised him yet again.

"Half the clothes in Harry's wardrobe don't have his scent on them, why not?"

Severus frowned. He had not been expecting such an out of the blue comment. "I suppose because he has not yet worn all of them. I only just bought them for him."

"You intend to fulfill your duties to him then?"

Severus leaped to his feet in shock, rage burning through him. That insult, while of a completely different nature, was just as great as the one he'd just stopped Black from uttering seconds before. The only difference here was that this insult was delivered to Severus alone. Black, mongrel dog or not, still belonged to one of the oldest pureblood families in the Wizarding World, a family that Severus knew had been in Slytherin for hundreds of years until Sirius Black had come along. He could forgive Harry his misunderstandings concerning money, housing, clothing and care because the boy had grown up a Muggle. But Black knew full well what he'd just said, what insult he'd just given to the Snape family honor.

But before Severus could formulate a proper response, Black too had leaped to his feet, fury on his face. "I am his godfather!" he shouted, hands clenched into fists. "It was my right to ask that question before this marriage ever took place! You will not deny me now!"

Black's words shut him up more effectively than a blow would have. The insult that Severus had been about to deliver slipped from his mind, replaced by disbelief. He found himself dropping numbly back down into his chair as the unreality of the situation suddenly struck him. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, couldn't conceive of it; it was beyond laughable.

But there was no denying the look in Black's eyes. He was dead serious about this. And Severus had no choice but to accept the fact that somehow, impossibly, he'd just become involved in betrothal negotiations with Sirius Black for the hand of Harry Potter. He stared in silence, watched in numb shock as Black sat back down, body stiff with anger, gaze never wavering.

He didn't know what to say. This was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. If he was honest with himself, then Black was right. He did have the right to the answer -- should have been given the chance to ask before the marriage had taken place and thus made an acceptable question a grave insult.

He swallowed past a suddenly dry throat, trying to find words they could both live with. Despite everything, all their past hatred, he had to admit he admired Black's determination.

"There is no point to this. . . .negotiation," he said slowly, making clear by his words that he understood exactly what Black had intended by that statement. "I made an oath that I will not break. He will want for nothing."

And that alone would have to satisfy Black. Severus intended to offer nothing else.

Black glared at him, and Severus could see a glimpse of the torment so many years in Azkaban had wrought; for the first time he could almost pity Black for it, for missing a lifetime with his godson. For the first time he could also almost see what it was that Potter and Lupin saw in the man. Despite the torment he'd endured, he'd come out of Azkaban still possessing the capacity to love. And love he did -- fiercely. Severus couldn't blame him for wanting what was best for Harry.

So caught in this startling realization, Severus almost didn't catch Black's first words. "Dumbledore says you were a spy for him all along. That you were never a Death Eater. That you had tried to save Lily and Ja. .James." His voice broke as he said his friend's name. Severus stayed silent, suspecting that this was going somewhere. Suspecting also that this conversation was probably long over due.

"Dumbledore says you first joined to stop your father. That you didn't believe their ideology, that you turned your back on their preaching," Black continued, and Severus knew that the proverbial 'their' he was referring to were the other Death Eaters and the Dark Wizards that were so prevalent amongst the Slytherin families. He couldn't help wondering where this was going.

"Dumbledore said your father was an evil man, a cruel man. That your mother was not much better." Black wasn't looking at him now, staring instead at a point beyond his shoulder. Severus bristled at the implication that Albus had been talking about his family to Black, but he managed to hold his tongue.

Barely.

"My family. . ." Black began again, only to break off, something flickering darkly in his eyes. Severus knew all about Black's family -- Dark Wizards the lot of them. Generations of them. Respected by the Wizarding community, respected and feared. It was one of the reasons no one had questioned Sirius Black's guilt, why no one had even raised an outcry when he'd gone to Azkaban without a trial. No one except one lone werewolf whose voice had been lost amid the screams of outrage.

"My family," Black repeated, "were evil, cruel, and angry that I turned my back on their preaching."

It struck him then, where this might be going. Disbelief swelled inside of him. Severus fought the urge to squirm in his seat, his stomach twisting suddenly with nausea. God, surely Black wasn't doing this? Wasn't going to point out the similarities between them -- he didn't want to look at those similarities, didn't want to acknowledge any kinship with the man. That was not how their relationship worked. It was too little, too late. They weren't going to bond. Weren't going to be friends. So why in Merlin's name was he putting them both through the torment of voicing things that should never be uttered?

"Things come back to you at odd times," Black said in a strange tone, his voice somehow hollow, almost lost. "Memories come back to you and send your mind in directions it shouldn't go. Sometimes those memories set you off, sometimes you say and do things because of them, and you don't even know why."

What in God's name was the man trying to do to them? Severus was seconds away from screaming at him. Seconds away from grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him from his rooms. He wasn't Black's confessor, wasn't his confidant. Didn't want to hear his angst-ridden story. . .why would he. . .

"The Dursleys hurt Harry," Black's words cut off Severus thoughts abruptly, understanding flooding through him at last. This wasn't about him or Black. This was about Harry. This was all about Harry.

"The Dursleys hurt Harry," Black repeated. "And you didn't see it. You saw him nearly every day for five years, and you didn't see it, even though you should have recognized all the signs. I didn't see it even though I should have recognized all the signs. I doubt they are unfamiliar to either of us."

The nausea twisted into pain as Severus let the man's words sink in.

"I saw him briefly just before term started last year," Black told him. "I remember thinking he was too thin. But he had a great appetite and I shrugged it off as typical teenage growing pains. They're all thin when they go through growth spurts after all. Except he hadn't gone through much of a growth spurt -- hard to do that I imagine when you're being starved. I remember seeing bruises on his arms and I asked him what had happened. He just shrugged and said they were from a Quidditch accident. Except Harry wasn't allowed to play Quidditch at the Dursleys -- a fact I conveniently forgot."

Black stood abruptly and began pacing again. Severus stared at the ground, refusing to watch, knowing he had to hear the rest, knowing Black wouldn't leave until he said what he needed to.

"I over heard the Weasley twins telling him and Ron about playing the game Deuces," Black went on. Severus gave a twisted smile at that; no one got through seventh year without learning about Deuces -- a ridiculous card game which generally ended with the two losers being locked in a closet together for five minutes. A quick groping, snog-session was the ultimate goal of the game.

"Harry had been horrified by the description of the game," Black explained. "I remembered the teasing he endured that night at dinner. Even Remus and I teased him about it. It seemed to take forever for him to finally catch on to what we were all talking about and blush appropriately. I realize now that the whole kissing aspect of the game had been lost on him. All he had been thinking about was being locked up in a small space."

And that brought back the memory of Severus' careless words to Harry his first night here. He could still remember the look on his face when he'd suggested he sleep in the closet.

"We should have known," Black stated. "We should have seen it. We both should have seen it."

And Severus couldn't agree more, the knot in his stomach evidence enough. "Yes, we should have," he said quietly.

Black turned swiftly toward him, seeming startled by his words. Severus met his gaze. And all the years of bitterness and resentment seemed to stand between them like unbreachable walls.

"Then you admit it," Black demanded, and his voice was unforgiving, and sharp as steel. "You admit that we failed him."

"Yes, Black, I admit it." In this -- this shame -- they were united.

And it seemed that was all Black wanted. No warmth entered his eyes, but he nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his canine form, shifting from one to another too quickly to follow.

The black Grim sat silently beside the door, waiting, and with a sigh Severus got up and let him out.

----------------------------------------

Author's Note: I thought a long time about how I wanted this confrontation to go -- after all a confrontation between Severus and Sirius has become a staple of HP fan fiction. I hope I was able to put a bit of different spin on it while still keeping both men in character.

I've had lots of emails over the last few days about the Dursleys and the amount of abuse Harry received from them, so I thought I'd write down a couple of quick comments here.

Child Abuse -- Canon vs. Fandom: I got a lot of questions about how much of Harry's child abuse was canon vs the stuff I made up. Fandom tends to exaggerate what really happened -- but personally I think what really happened was bad enough. The 'cupboard-under-the-stairs' is a bit of a misnomer for Americans. Many British homes have one -- it's more of a large closet like a pantry rather than a true cupboard. The cupboard in the movies is an accurate depiction. Regardless of how big they are, I can't imagine being locked inside one (or locked in a bedroom) for long periods of time. I think the false imprisonment rather than the size of the room is the truly damaging thing here.

We also know that the Dursleys starved Harry -- though I think the worst of that happened during Book 2. By the time Harry was rescued by Ron and his brothers, he'd been locked in that bedroom for 2 weeks. He'd been fed once a day -- a single bowl of watery soup. He drank the broth himself, and then gave the solid matter to his Owl. Two weeks of that would have left a 12-year-old weak and sick.

And no, we don't have much evidence that Vernon beat Harry beyond tossing him into the cupboard -- but Dudley certainly did. And since Dudley went on to become a boxer on his school team I don't imagine it was pleasant. Beyond that I think Canon-base abuse is really more the neglect than anything else.

Obviously my Dursleys are a bit more severe than the Canon Dursleys (they need to be for this plot to work properly). Individual events will be mentioned here and there as the story progresses.

Dumbledore's Curse: Did Dudley deserve the same fate as his family? Maybe, maybe not. Personally I think Dudley is nearly as badly abused as Harry -- just in a completely different way. His parents are spoiling him -- literally to death. Chances are a child like that will find himself in a early grave due to heart failure, diabetes, or a run-in with the law. Unless something drastic happens to Dudley I don't know if he's redeemable. In some respects Dumbledore's curse may be the best thing that ever happened to him -- it will make him reexamine his life, and certainly will change his eating habits. Whether or not he reforms himself remains to be seen.


	13. Chapter 13 Understanding Werewolves

Chapter 13 - Understanding Werewolves

Remus left Harry's bedside shortly after Ron arrived, giving the two friends some time alone. Harry listened in silence while Ron told him all about the restless night he and Hermione had spent in Gryffindor Tower. The story of the attack had spread through the school like wild fire. A dozen students had seen Severus Snape carrying Harry's bloodied body into The Three Broomsticks. The descriptions of the arrows that had been protruding from Harry's body had been detailed and lurid. Half of Gryffindor had been panicked with the belief that Harry was dead, and Ron and Hermione had spent the better part of an hour assuring them it was untrue.

"They wanted to hear the whole story over and over again," Ron confessed to Harry. "I had no idea how exhausting it was." The redhead looked flushed, and vaguely sick. "They wanted to know how much blood there was, if you screamed, if. . ." He broke off and shook his head.

"It's alright, Ron," Harry said quietly.

Ron looked up at him in worry. "Harry, did I ever do that? Did I ever bug you like that?"

Harry floundered for a moment too long, looking for an appropriate lie. Ron knew him too well, and sighed. "Merlin! I'm sorry, Harry! I had no idea."

"Don't worry about," Harry assured him. "Believe it or not, you get used to it."

Ron just shook his head. "Maybe," he replied. "In any event, we talked late into the night. Lots of people are scared that this means You-Know-Who is going to attack again. And you should hear what they are saying about Snape."

Harry looked up at that in surprise. "What about Snape?" His voice sounded defensive even to himself.

Ron apparently thought so too, but the redhead just gave him an amused look and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Nothing bad," he assured him. "It's just that for the first time ever Snape is being hailed as a hero by Gryffindors. He and Dumbledore were like the bloody cavalry, weren't they?"

"They saved our lives," Harry agreed. He'd be the first to admit that. "I'll have to tell Snape. He'll laugh himself sick."

"Snape laughs?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "Usually when I've done something stupid."

"Figures," Ron rolled his eyes again. "Don't tell him, anyway. He's insufferable enough as it is. He'd hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives -- and probably find someway of taking points from Gryffindor for it too."

"Probably," Harry agreed. Snape did love taking points from Gryffindor.

"Anyway lots of people wanted to know if. . ." he broke off hesitantly, looking at Harry uncertainly. Harry just nodded to him, encouraging him to say what ever it was. "If you had killed anyone," Ron finished. "And what curses you had used. But Hermione and I figured it wasn't anyone's business, and we told them so."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said gratefully. He knew the questions were inevitable, given their age group. But it was nice to know that Ron and Hermione at least understood.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked softly, and Harry knew what he was really asking.

"No," Harry admitted. "But I'll manage. It's nice to know I can count on you two."

Ron nodded fiercely, fighting back some emotion. He reached out to pat Harry on the shoulder and then thought better of it, perhaps remembering the arrow that had been there yesterday. He squeezed Harry's hand instead, the gesture as unfamiliar as it was welcomed. Harry was not demonstrative with anyone. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been hugged -- something only Hermione, Molly Weasley and Sirius had ever dared do.

And Snape.

Harry frowned. Snape had picked him up and carried him in his arms yesterday. That counted he guessed. It was close enough. It surprised him that for some reason he wanted it to count.

Hermione interrupted the two of them a moment later, entering the room carrying a tray of food for Harry. "Madam Pomfrey sent this for you Harry," she explained as she approached the bed. Ron helped Harry sit up, propping pillows behind his back to settle him. Hermione set the tray on Harry's lap.

"What did Snape want?" Ron asked Hermione as she sat down in the chair opposite him.

Harry shot him a questioning look as he took a bite of the eggs on the plate.

"Snape stopped us in the hallway on the way here," Ron explained. "Said he wanted to talk to 'Mione."

They both looked questioningly at Hermione. She frowned. "He wanted to know about the spell King's Voice," she explained. "Wanted to know about our extra study sessions."

Harry stiffened at her words, old mistrust flaring in him. "Is he going to stop us?" He had counted on those study sessions continuing. God knew they weren't going to learn anything useful from Professor Dubloise this year. If it hadn't been for Hermione and her study sessions Harry doubted he'd be alive now.

"No," Hermione said quickly before Ron could launch into a tirade condemning Snape before hearing the outcome of their conversation. "No, he's not. In fact he implied that he approved. Actually, he sort of . . .complimented us."

"What?" Ron and Harry stared at her in shock.

Hermione just shrugged. "It was kind of odd really," she admitted. "He actually seemed impressed. By all three of us."

Harry had become gradually used to the lessening of hostilities between himself and the Potions Master and was only mildly shocked by her words. But Ron, he just stared at her like a gaping fish, mouth opening and closing as he floundered for words.

"I'm serious," she insisted.

"Snape?" Ron asked for clarification, disbelief coloring his words.

Hermione nodded.

"Did he. . ." Ron shook his head. "Give points to Gryffindor?"

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "But then this wasn't really about being Gryffindors, was it? It was about being friends, the three of us."

Friends. Harry, Ron and Hermione. And for some reason Snape understood that it mattered. It mattered a lot. The thought flooded Harry with a strange sense of warmth.

"Well, damn," Ron laughed. "When did Hell freeze over, and why didn't I get a memo?"

That set the three of them off, and for a moment they forgot about Death Eaters and wars and dying, and lost themselves in just being teenagers.

Eventually, at Madam Pomfrey's insistence, Ron and Hermione left, giving Harry a chance to sleep once again. He slept through the rest of the day, his body exhausted from the ordeal he'd been through.

He woke that evening to a feeling of warmth pressed up against his side, and for one disoriented moment he thought it was Snape. But Snape had never touched him, not in all the weeks they had slept beside each other. Prying open his eyes, he realized it was Padfoot, snoring softly beside him, the shaggy dog stretched comfortably on top of the bed's duvet. Sitting again in the chair at his bedside, an amused smile on his face as he stared at the two of them, was Remus Lupin.

"How long has he been there?" Harry asked softly, motioning to the sleeping dog.

"Hours I imagine," Remus mused. "He missed lunch."

Harry smiled and reached out to scratch Padfoot's shaggy head. The dog twitched but didn't wake. "I always wanted a dog," he admitted almost wistfully.

Remus laughed softly at that. "Well, they're usually more trouble than they're worth. Particularly this one."

Harry grinned. "Still, would have been nice to have someone who could bite Dudley."

Remus' eyes softened, and though Harry didn't notice, Padfoot grew unnaturally still beneath his fingers. "Dudley is your cousin, isn't he?" Remus asked. "Not very nice, I take it?"

"A complete prat," Harry admitted.

"You want to talk about it?" Remus asked gently. Harry looked up at the man in surprise, understanding belatedly the direction this conversation had taken. He hadn't intended it; hadn't thought about it really. But of course Dumbledore had told Sirius about what they had learned about the Dursleys. And of course Remus would know as well.

He flashed the werewolf a quick grin. "I'm alright, Remus," he assured the man. He felt the fur shifting under his hand and yelped in surprise when he realized that Padfoot had become Sirius again. His godfather sat up quickly, flashing him a bright grin even as he reached out to ruffle Harry's hair, returning his unintentional caress. And then just to be annoying, as Sirius moved to the chair beside Remus, he reached out and ruffled Remus' hair as well.

Remus smiled indulgently but shoved Sirius' hand away from him. Sirius grinned, but for the first time Harry noticed something deeper in his godfather's eyes, something warmer and brighter burning there when he looked at Remus. He found himself stifling back a giggle, a blush spreading over his face as he realized what that look was. Ron looked at Hermione that way when he thought no one else was watching. The thought that Sirius might be less alone than he seemed warmed Harry clear through his bones.

Sirius turned his attention back toward him, and the look in his eyes was replaced by a different gleam, one of concern, and affection, and worry. "You sure you don't want to talk about it, Harry?" Sirius asked him, repeating Remus' question.

Realizing now that Sirius had heard his comment about Dudley, Harry sighed. "Don't know what I'm suppose to say," he admitted. He had never been good at talking about things, especially not feelings. He rarely opened up to anyone. Oddly enough, Snape had gotten more out of him than anyone else.

"Maybe you could tell me why you never said anything," Sirius suggested. There was nothing accusing in his tone, and his eyes held simple understanding and the faintest look of hope that Harry might relent. Harry wasn't entirely certain how to refuse that look. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sirius, but he didn't want the man feeling guilty either for something he had no control over.

"I guess. . ." Harry sighed, searching for some explanation. "I guess before I came to Hogwarts I didn't know there was anything wrong with the way they treated me. It's just the way things were, and always had been. I had nothing to compare it to."

He saw the flicker of shock in both their eyes at that; he recognized the protest that sprang to both their lips only to be just as quickly stifled as they fought whatever first impulse they both had felt. Harry could imagine what it was; he supposed from their perspective things had been different. They could both remember the year he'd lived with his parents before he'd entered the Dursleys' lives. The only thing he could remember from that time was their deaths, courtesy of the Dementors.

"I don't remember them," he said softly, regretfully, and both men just nodded in understanding, knowing exactly who he meant and why his words made sense from his point of view. He supposed that admission probably hurt the two of them more than it did him.

"And after you came to Hogwarts, Harry?" Sirius prompted, urging Harry to continue.

"Things were too new the first year," he admitted. "It wasn't until I went to the Burrow and saw what Ron's family was like that I figured out something was wrong. Then I didn't know what to do, or who to tell. I thought about it briefly, but it seemed that anyone who could do anything about it knew already. I figured Dumbledore and McGonagall had to know. Next thing I know I'm being accused of being the Heir of Slytherin and it seemed kind of a stupid thing to be worrying about. With all the people trying to kill me, it just continued to seem stupid. Dumbledore said I had to stay with the Dursleys because it was the only place I was safe. And I just figured it beat being dead, no point in making a fuss over it. Wasn't going to last forever."

He'd looked away at some point during his little speech, and at the silence that greeted it, he glanced hesitantly back toward the two men. Both were looking at him thoughtfully, as if trying to take in his words, or trying to reconcile them with what they knew about him. Apprehension washed through him, too many years of having his feelings count for nothing making him dread what they might say to him. "It doesn't matter. . ." he started to say, ready to dismiss it all. Ready to protect himself against whatever hurt might be sent toward him.

Both men startled him by reaching out simultaneously and grabbing his hand, holding it in a tight three way grasp. "Harry, it does matter," Sirius told him. "And it isn't stupid. And we want you to make a fuss over it."

"Harry," Remus added. "We can't change what happened. We can't go back and make it right. We would if we could. But if you need to talk about it, or if you just. . .need us, we're here for you."

His words were soft and soothing, and the look in Sirius' eyes brought a lump to Harry's throat that made him feel good even while it hurt. "Thank you," he whispered softly to them, suddenly shy under the attention, and not really able to find any more words than that.

Both men seemed to understand and they smiled at him, squeezing his hand again before releasing him.

"And Harry," Sirius added. "If anyone tries to hurt you again, you tell me. I promise I'll bite whoever it is."

Harry twisted his mouth into a rueful smile, guessing what Sirius meant this time, though the man was obviously attempting at least to be polite. "I know you don't like him, but Snape's been pretty decent to me."

Remus accepted his statement at face value, having the benefit of their earlier conversation to go on. Sirius, however, just bit his lip in a stubborn pout. "Well, he better stay that way," he groused. "Or else." He let the threat hang.

Feeling suddenly mischievous and wanting to lighten the mood, Harry grinned impishly at his godfather. "You know, Padfoot, Moony tells me you're not all that crazy about marriage."

Remus rolled his eyes upward in what Harry assumed was amused embarrassment.

Sirius on the other hand looked genuinely startled. "Did he?" he glanced at Remus in surprise. "I suppose I never thought about it much when I was younger, but I don't have anything against it. Settling down sounds rather nice."

It was Remus' turn to look startled. He stared at his friend in disbelief. "You? Settle down?" It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he found the idea ridiculous. "Your idea of settling down was dating the same person for longer than a week." Remus turned conspiratorially toward Harry. "Your father used to say that Sirius thought dating was like Quidditch. Once you caught the snitch the game was over and it was time to start a new match."

Harry let out a shocked laugh, not believing he'd just heard Remus Lupin make a sexual double entendre in front of him.

"Moony!" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief. "Don't go telling Harry things like that! He's too young for. . ."

Harry interrupted him with a snicker of hilarity. "I'm not too young, Padfoot," he grinned. "And trust me, I've heard just about every snitch catching and broom polishing joke there is."

"Broom polishing!" Sirius sputtered, his face growing red. "Besides, it's not true anyway. I wasn't that bad. And, just because I dated a lot back then doesn't mean anything now. I was young. People change." He glanced somewhat curiously over at Remus, and Harry sensed a sudden tension between the two men. "I'm not like that now," Sirius added, watching Remus' expression.

But the werewolf just snorted in disbelief. "I'll believe that when I see it," he said with a dismissive laugh, but Harry had the impression that the man wasn't nearly as disinterested as he appeared to be.

"Moony," Sirius began only to be interrupted as Remus stood abruptly.

"Why don't I go get you some dinner, Harry," Remus suggested. "You missed lunch. You're bound to be hungry."

He didn't wait for a response, but rather headed out the door in search of the promised meal. Sirius watched him go with an odd look on his face.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" his godfather finally asked him, looking genuinely perplexed.

Harry took a shot at answering. "It's probably just because the concept of dating a lot of people is most likely foreign to him."

Sirius thought about that a moment, nodding in grudging agreement. "I guess he is a bit shy. Come to think of it, I don't remember him ever dating when we were in school."

Harry's eyes widened, wondering why that would surprise Sirius. "Of course not," he laughed. "Remus is a werewolf."

"There's nothing wrong with being a werewolf," Sirius said defensively. "Lots of people would have been happy to date Remus."

"Of course there's nothing wrong with being a werewolf!" Harry agreed, wondering if Sirius was missing the bigger picture here. "But that's not the point now is it? Werewolves only get the one shot at it."

Sirius frowned in confusion. "One shot at what?"

"At dating. At love."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry stared at his godfather incredulously. The man honestly didn't know? He couldn't believe it. "Werewolves mate for life. Hermione can probably explain it better to you; I never understood the theory behind it. Had something to do with scent markers, and animal instincts, and magical resonances. But they get one shot at it, and then that's it for them. They're bonded, or mated, or whatever it is you want to call it."

Sirius looked completely stunned, struck speechless by Harry's revelation. He slumped back in his chair with a look of profound amazement on his face.

"How could you have spent all that time with a werewolf and not known?" Harry asked him curiously.

Sirius just shook his head. "We never talked about it. I never thought about it," he admitted sheepishly. "It just never occurred to me. How do you know so much about werewolves?"

"Snape made us write an essay on them in third year. Hermione's was very detailed." He studied Sirius's face, noting the thoughtfully gleam in the man's eye. "You probably ought to read it if you're planning on falling in love with a werewolf."

That brought Sirius' attention right back to him, and he blinked at Harry in shock. "Fall in love. . ." he sputtered, but the protest died on his lips as Harry just laughed at him. "How did you know?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "It's sort of written all over your face every time you look at him."

"Does that bother you?"

Harry just shook his head. "No," he assured him. "I kind of like the idea that the two of you have each other."

"Well, I don't exactly have Remus," Sirius admitted somewhat dejectedly. "I've tried to bring the subject up, hinted at it, but he just sort of shoots me down before I can get started. He doesn't seem to be interested."

Harry thought about that, remembering something Remus had said earlier about Padfoot having him but not knowing what to do with him. "No, I don't suppose he would be interested," Harry agreed. "Not if he didn't think you were serious about him."

And despite the topic, Sirius could resist the joke. "I'm always SERIOUS."

Harry rolled his eyes at the man.

"Do you think that's it?" Sirius asked then, looking suddenly hopeful, his eyes lighting up with the thought. "Do you think I might have a chance with him?"

"He's not going to leave you," Harry told him, believing that with all his heart. "No matter what happens, I don't think he'd leave you. And if anyone in the whole world had a chance, it would be you."

"So all I've got to do is convince him that I'm worth taking a risk on," Sirius decided, a wicked grin twisting his mouth. "I can do that."

"Not that I know anything about love," Harry told him. "But that might not be as easy as it sounds. Good luck." He'd been watching Ron and Hermione dancing around one another long enough to know that nothing about love was as easy as it seemed. He didn't figure it was a problem he'd ever have to worry about -- not much chance of him ever falling in love after all. Assuming he lived long enough to care about such things.

"A challenge!" Sirius laughed. "I'm good at challenges!"

Harry smiled up at his godfather. He wasn't going to say anything, but he had a feeling that treating this like a game was precisely the reason he didn't have Remus in the first place. But he supposed the man would figure that out himself. Eventually.

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Author's Note: Yes, I know, it's another cliche! Werewolves mate for life. But I do so love cliches -- and this one is practically mandatory in SB/RL stories. Besides, it will give Sirius no end of troubles.

And, yes, Harry really is that clueless about his relationship with Snape. Snape at least has figured out that he's interested in Harry though he's hip deep in the River Denial. Harry hasn't even noticed the river yet.

I'm glad you are all enjoying this. I am loving your emails and reviews! Thanks again!


	14. Chapter 14 Returning to Normal

Chap 14 Returning to Normal

Remus returned with their evening meal and the two men ate dinner with Harry, chatting quietly about school and Quidditch. Harry watched in amusement as his godfather flirted more openly with Remus, apparently more at ease now that he knew Harry didn't mind. Remus endured it all with good humor, seeming at once both annoyed and amused but generally unoffended. He did not however flirt back.

Eventually Madam Pomfrey kicked them out, insisting that Harry get more rest. The Mediwitch checked his wounds one last time, assuring him that they were healing up quite nicely, and that he could go back to his own room in the morning. Then she too bid him good night.

A moment later Snape slipped into the room, moving silently across the ward, black robes billowing about him. "Is she gone?" he asked, his resonate voice making Harry shiver for some reason.

Harry glanced toward the door Madam Pomfrey had just disappeared through. "Went to bed, I think," he informed the Potions Master.

"Good," Snape sat down in the chair beside Harry. "Last thing I need is another scolding from her. Kicking Black out is one thing, but calling me an idiot. . .the nerve of her!"

It almost sounded like Snape was making a joke, and Harry gave him a hesitant smile, unsure of how he should respond. "I'm sure, sir," he agreed neutrally.

Snape raised one dark eyebrow, a mocking gleam in his eyes, but he let the comment pass. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Yes, sir," Harry told him. "Madam Pomfrey said I can leave tomorrow morning."

"Excellent," Snape said dryly, though Harry guessed he probably would have preferred to have his place to himself for a few more days. Couldn't imagine that the man would be happy to have him back. "Wouldn't want you missing classes, now would we?"

"No, sir," Harry agreed, then remembered something. "Though. . .I didn't exactly get my potions homework finished. I was going to work on it after I got back from Hogsmeade." He supposed that was going to cost Gryffindor a few dozen points. Snape had never been forgiving of late homework, no matter what the excuse.

"Perhaps you should have finished your homework before you went to Hogsmeade," Snape suggested, and Harry recognized that gleam in his eyes. He was already calculating how many points he could take away, triple if Ron and Hermione had failed to finish as well.

"Yes, sir," Harry glared at him, trying to focus all his attention on those soon to be lost points, but feeling something in his mind slipping instead. Because Snape's words had sparked another thought in his mind, an unintended thought, one he was desperately trying not to think about.

He tried with all his might to hold onto those missing points, tried to picture the tally in McGonagall office, but it was all slipping away -- because it was dark in here, and the candlelight was casting shadows on the old stone walls, and some how Snape's words always struck deeper and truer than anyone else's. And the other thought, the terrible thought, was roaring to life inside him, consuming him. A direct question from Ron had not done this to him, nor the worried gaze of Sirius. But one mocking insult from Snape broke down a wall he hadn't even been aware he'd erected.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see Snape's amusement, then turned away from him, rolling onto his side, unwilling to let Snape see his pain. His breath caught in his throat, a single sob escaping him before he strangled it back, hands fisted in his bed sheets.

Because of course Snape was right, damn him. He should have done something as simple as finish his homework -- then it wouldn't have happened. The Death Eaters would have been gone from the weapons shop by the time Harry had gotten there; they wouldn't have seen him, wouldn't have attacked. Just a short delay was all it would have taken. Then those villagers wouldn't have died, and Harry wouldn't have killed those three men whose faces he could now see joining the ranks of the other dead in his mind. And the thought was a cold, hard emptiness inside him, hurting and aching and bitter.

And he wouldn't cry. Wouldn't cry! Instead he sucked in great gulps of air to hold back those tears, pulling it all back inside him, pushing it all back down into the empty place. And his body was cold and shaking, and he felt on the verge of hyperventilating.

Then amazingly there were warm hands on his shoulders, strong fingers wrapping around him, and he was pulled back and up until he was braced with his back against Snape's chest, and the man was talking to him in a low, soothing tone, words Harry couldn't really understand from so far down in his blackness.

He felt something cool at his lips, glass he realized, as Snape placed a potion vial at his mouth. And then Snape's fingers were tangled in his hair as the man gently tilted his head back, pressing the vial more insistently, forcing him to swallow the contents. He didn't care, didn't mind. Had oddly grown use to this over the last few weeks -- trusted that the contents would not harm him.

He recognized the taste even -- Dreamless Sleep Draught. The potion seeped deep into his veins, and he felt the familiar lethargy catching hold of him, and he sank back into it, not caring that it was really Snape's arms he was sinking into, that he was lying there in Snape's embrace. And he listened to Snape's soothing voice, still unable to recognize the words or process what they might mean. He even turned so that he could hear a calming heart beating beneath his ear, and that was so much better than the screams that were pressing at him. So much better than the darkness.

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It was funny how quickly Sirius Black's words came back to haunt him. 'Sometimes those memories set you off and you don't even know why.' Severus could only guess that this was the case now, this was why he found himself with his arms around Harry Potter holding him while he hyperventilated, waiting for his potion to take affect.

He hadn't meant to upset the boy. He'd come down to bring him the Dreamless Sleep Draught, worried he might have nightmares again. But one careless comment about homework, meant in jest, had set the boy off. He'd seen it the moment it happened, seen the shuttered look of pain that had crossed his face. One part of him had been expecting it. The boy hadn't reacted yet -- to the fact that he'd nearly been killed again, that people had died, that he'd been forced once more to defend his own life. He should have broken down in the arms of his godfather, or baring that his friends.

He couldn't help remembering the Triwizard Tournament. He hadn't truly broken down then either, fighting the tears with all his might. No tears. Not even in the arms of Molly Weasley. Never any tears.

But then this was the boy who put up silencing charms rather than wake his dorm mates with his nightmares.

What surprised Severus was that the boy had broken down in front of him. Oh he'd tried to hide it immediately, had turned away, had swallowed back his tears -- Severus wondered if he'd ever let them fall. But he hadn't fought him when he'd pulled him into his arms, hadn't resisted drinking the potion he set to his lips.

His own actions had actually startled him. He wasn't a kind man, wasn't prone to giving comfort. But he hadn't been able to do anything else, unable to bear watching Harry's pain without at least trying. He'd really expected to be rebuffed, rejected. But he hadn't been.

And his words -- utter nonsense about how it was going to be okay, and that Harry was safe, that it was all right to let go. Complete claptrap of course. But he suspected the boy was too far gone to really care or understand anyway; he could probably promise him the moon and never have to worry about being held to it.

He felt the boy calming at last, expecting him to pull away in discomfort. Potion or no, he was still the much hated Potions Master. But Harry surprised him by turning slightly in his arms, head resting on his chest, breathing slowing. A moment later he realized that the young man had fallen asleep -- in his arms.

Harry Potter had fallen asleep in his arms.

Well, hell, he thought. Now what was he supposed to do?

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He vaguely recalled someone moving and shifting him in the night. He murmured in protest, but quickly settled back down in sleep, dismissing it.

Madam Pomfrey woke him about an hour before breakfast, and he sat up sleepily, feeling well-rested. She checked his shoulder one last time, pronouncing him satisfactorily healed, and then handed him a pile of clothes and pointed him toward the showers. He recognized the clothing as some of the new ones Snape had bought for him. The man must have retrieved them for him sometime yesterday.

His face flushed as he remembered last night's events. Snape's late night visit, Harry's subsequent break down. And then the taste of Dreamless Sleep Draught. He wouldn't think about the rest of it, he decided. He doubted Snape would ever mention it. The man had probably been mortified by Harry's behavior.

But he had been decent to him. Harry wouldn't forget that. Though he suspected he'd pay for it eventually -- probably during potions class that day in fact.

Breakfast was more of an ordeal than he'd expected. Every eye in the Great Hall was turned toward him when he entered and made his way toward his seat at the Gryffindor table. It reminded him of the day after his marriage to Snape. Only this time they were discussing blood and death and battles. It occurred to him suddenly that this was the first time that some of them had seen a battle up close. Even during the great battle last year they had all been locked away in their common rooms. By the time they had been allowed out, the Ministry had already removed the bodies from the field.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, holding his seat. And Neville, Dean and Seamus were quick to welcome him back with heartfelt questions about his health. He was also ready for the barrage of questions from the rest of the Gryffindors, and fielded them with his usually vagueness.

Eventually Hermione and Ron managed to exchange a few private words with him, telling him that Sirius and Remus had asked them to tell Harry that they would be back this evening and were planning on sticking around for a while yet. Harry was warmed by that thought. He really hadn't been given much of an opportunity to spend long periods of time with his godfather. Besides he wanted to know what was happening between him and Remus. There was a full moon in a couple of nights, so he knew Remus would be more on edge than he usually was, but it had been interesting to watch the flirting last night. It was the first time he'd ever seen two men interacting like that. Didn't seem much different from what Ron and Hermione did.

"You should have seen Dumbledore earlier, Harry," Ron said then, and Hermione echoed his sentiments.

"What happened?" Harry paused in eating, glancing worriedly at the high table. But Dumbledore seemed his usually happy self; he winked brightly at Harry before turning his attention back to his blueberry muffin. Harry risked a glance at Snape, but the Potions Master was glowering into his coffee cup and did not look up. Harry inexplicably found himself blushing.

"A group of reporters tried to get into Hogwarts this morning," Hermione explained. "And at least three of the Ministry candidates were with them, demanding to see you." She reached over toward Dean's plate, liberating the copy of the Daily Prophet he had been reading. Hermione showed Harry the front page.

'Attack in Hogsmeade! Boy Who Lived Battles Death Eaters'. The words were written in bright red lettering just above a picture of the damaged street of Hogsmeade.

"What did Dumbledore do?" Harry asked, as he skimmed the article quickly.

"Threw them all out," Ron told him with a gleeful grin. "It was brilliant. Threw more insults than Snape on a bad day. I don't think I've ever seen Rita Skeeter run so fast."

Harry's head shot up in alarm. "Rita Skeeter?"

Hermione, quickly surmising the problem, shook her head. "Don't worry, Harry. Dumbledore has put an alarm on Hogwarts. The moment Rita enters the premises, all the paintings start screaming -- no matter what form she's in. And we've already warned Padfoot that she's lurking about."

Harry relaxed marginally, but he didn't like the idea of that woman any where nearby when his godfather was visiting. He turned his attention back to the article, noting again that there were quotes from several people he'd never heard of who had apparently had long, involved conversations with him. He did note somewhat pleased that Severus Snape had received some rather high praise from the paper, considering that only a few months ago he was always listed as a 'suspected Death Eater' every time his name was so much as mentioned. Now he was lauded as a hero. He rather suspected that explained the glare Snape was still giving his coffee cup.

Something occurred to Harry then and he glanced up, noting his fellow classmates. "Hey Ron, Neville, how much do you guys know about sword fighting?"

"Sword fighting?" Ron snorted at that. "That's a Slytherin thing Harry. My dad doesn't hold with any of that. Bill wanted to take lessons when he was in school, and he and dad got into a bit of row over it. Nothing ever came of it."

"But your dad's not opposed to fighting," Harry questioned. "He got into a fist fight with Lucius Malfoy in the middle of Flourish and Blotts."

Ron just shrugged that. "Oh, he'd say there's nothing wrong with the occasional scuffle -- though my mom laid into him over that fight. But sword dueling, that's something different all together. That's blood sports, and they're often linked with Blood Magic, Dark Magic."

"What about you?" Harry glanced at Neville.

"My grandma made me take lessons," Neville admitted. "I'm not any good at it. Even worse at archery. But she still thought I ought to at least learn the basics. Lots of kids take lessons, but its only Dark Wizards who are into blood sports."

Dark Wizards, and apparently Severus Snape. He wasn't certain what to think about that. He glanced over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. "Do you suppose any of that lot knows how?" he asked.

"Count on it," Ron told him.

"Draco and Blaise definitely," Neville agreed. "Lucius Malfoy is a well known swordsman. One of the best. So is. . ." he broke off suddenly, his face reddening.

Harry took a guess at what he was about to say. "So is Severus Snape."

Neville nodded apologetically. "One of the reasons I've always been so afraid of him, Harry," the boy confessed. "I know he's your bond-mate now and all. And I guess that means he's not a Death Eater. But the stories I heard said he used to duel a lot when he was younger."

Harry felt suddenly defensive, almost protective toward Snape, especially since he saw the old mistrust flaring in Ron's eyes. "Good thing he's on our side then, isn't it?" he said quickly. "The three of us would be dead if it hadn't been for him and Dumbledore."

And that was enough. Ron just sighed, and nodded in agreement, and they moved on to a different subject.

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To Harry's surprise, Snape did not take away points for his missing homework. As the other students handed in their homework, Snape simply went from desk to desk collecting the scrolls while he lectured them on their new assignment. He picked up Hermione's and Ron's, which was only partially completed, glanced briefly at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face, and then moved on to the next table, never once breaking his narrative. It was done so smoothly that the Slytherin students didn't even notice.

Hermione and Ron did however and they both looked at Harry in surprise. Harry just shrugged at them, grateful for the reprieve. He sat down with Hermione during lunch and finished it then, guessing he owed it to Snape to turn it in as soon as possible.

The three of them snuck up to one of the unused towers near the Headmaster's office to visit Sirius and Remus that evening after dinner. Harry was still worried about Rita Skeeter, and asked about the wards Dumbledore had set up to insure that she couldn't get into Hogwarts.

"Even if she can't get in," Harry said after they had convinced them it was safe enough. "You still have to stay out of sight, Sirius. The chances are good that a number of Slytherin students know you're an Animagus. I doubt Pettigrew has kept that secret. I'm sure Malfoy probably knows."

"Got that all worked out," Sirius said with a grin. "Remus has a spell." He transformed into Padfoot for them so that Remus could demonstrate. A quick wave of the werewolf's wand and the huge dog looked like a small, furry crup. Padfoot the crup seemed quite pleased by his forked tail, which he wagged prodigiously, earning a round of laughter from the rest of them.

"It's just an illusion of course," Remus told them all. "But it's a hard one to see through."

"Even still," Harry cautioned. "A dog in the company of Remus Lupin is going to be suspect."

Sirius transformed back into himself. "Don't worry about me, Harry," he smiled. "I'm good at escaping. And we've got a backup form as well -- Remus can make me look just like Crookshanks. "

Harry just sighed. "Just bugs me that a killer like Lucius Malfoy walks around free and you have half the Ministry after you." But he allowed his godfather to lure him from his pensive mood with stories that soon had them all laughing.

It was nearly a half hour after curfew before Harry made it back down to the dungeons. They had lost track of time, and Remus had finally remembered that Harry didn't have the luxury of sneaking into Gryffindor Tower. Remus had offered to walk Harry back down in effort to stave off punishment, but Harry had decided against it. It was still early in the year, but sooner or later he was going to be out after curfew -- something always came up -- and he supposed now was as good a time as any to find out what Snape was going to do about it.

Snape was sitting in the main parlor when he entered, reading by the fire. He didn't glance up as Harry walked into the room.

Uncertain if he should acknowledge the lateness, Harry hesitated a moment by the door. Finally he crossed the room to his desk and retrieved the finished homework scroll he had done at lunchtime. He approached Snape somewhat cautiously, sitting down across from him on the couch.

"I finished my homework," he said tentatively.

Snape glanced up at that, his expression unreadable. He stared at the scroll a moment, before finally reaching over and taking it from Harry, setting it down on the coffee table. "Thank you," he said simply. He went back to reading his book.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he was drawing this out on purpose. Probably. He sighed. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said quietly.

"You're lucky Filch didn't catch you," Snape remarked, not looking up from his book. "He's been patrolling these halls a lot lately, trying to catch a couple of Slytherin students."

Harry waited. But nothing more was forth coming. Harry frowned. Was the man going to make him guess? He waited several more minutes, before finally giving up. He shook his head and headed toward the bedroom.

"Are you still willing to go to my family's dinner with me?" Snape asked before he could leave.

Harry paused in the doorway. Was that why he didn't take the points away? He wanted a favor? "I promised I would," Harry reminded him. He wasn't going to break his promise, even if Snape acted like a jerk. Besides, he was curious about the man's family.

"It's this Saturday," Snape told him. "I trust that's convenient."

"I have Quidditch practice in the morning, but that's all."

"We'll be taking a port key," Snape explained. "I've already made all the arrangements for one."

"Will you tell me what to wear?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly nervous as he thought about the fancier clothes Snape had bought him. He'd been sticking with the more casual wear so far, but he supposed for the dinner he'd have to dress up a bit more.

Snape nodded, a faint mocking smile touching his lips. "I'll pick out something suitable for you." He glanced at the bedroom door, nodding toward the room. "I left some more Dreamless Sleep Draught for you on your nightstand."

"Thank you." Harry felt suddenly self-conscious, the mention of the potion reminding him of last night's events. "Good night," he added softly before hurrying into the room.

He showered and changed into his nightclothes, grabbing the promised potion from the nightstand as he climbed into bed. Setting his wand and his glasses on the table, he pried off the lid and drank the Draught. Then he climbed under the covers and settled down for the night, feeling at once relaxed, safe, and more comfortable in his own bed than he had been in the hospital wing.

His own bed. The thought nagged at him for a long time. It wasn't his own bed. It was Snape's bed. He was just sleeping in it. But it still felt more comfortable than the hospital bed.

He was already drifting away on the calming waves of the Dreamless Sleep Draught when Snape joined him. But even still he was vaguely aware of the man climbing into bed beside him, vaguely aware of the hand that reached out and lightly brushed his hair back from his forehead. Then he was lost in a peaceful contentment that carried him all the way to morning.

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Author's Note: Before anyone asks, no, Harry is not going to become a Dreamless Sleep Draught Drug Addict. I don't know if it's canon or fanon that the potion is addictive (I think it's fanon), but it in this story it is harmless -- especially when Snape begins brewing a special version just for Harry.


	15. Chapter 15 Manners

Chapter 15 - Manners

After the excitement of the weekend, Harry was grateful for an uneventful week. There was a full moon on Friday night, and both Remus and Sirius stayed away from the castle that day, telling Harry that they probably wouldn't be back until Sunday. Snape had brewed the Wolvesbane potion for Remus, but even still he was usually pretty exhausted after his transformation and intended to sleep most of Saturday. Sirius intended to stay with him, though he'd confessed to Harry that he hadn't gotten very far in his attempt to court his friend. Remus still treated his flirtation like a joke.

Dinner in the Great Hall Friday night was particularly lively as several seventh year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had managed to purchase some of the Weasley Twins latest pranks and were in the process of tormenting the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws. A number of students were sporting pink hair and rabbit ears much to the amusement of their peers. Harry knew enough to steer clear of the pranksters.

"So do you know what you're going to wear?" Hermione asked him as they all sat around the table enjoying their meal. Neville and Dean looked up at that, staring at Harry curiously.

"Wear when?" Dean asked.

"Poor Harry has to go have dinner with Snape's family tomorrow night," Ron informed them with a look of disgust on his face. "Can you imagine a whole house full of Snapes?"

"Oh, Harry!" Neville's eyes widened in shock. "A formal Wizarding dinner, with the Snapes of all people!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It shouldn't be that bad," he insisted. "Snape says the rest of the family is nothing like him."

"Still," Neville shuddered. "I never did like formal dinners. My grandma likes to throw them, but I always felt too nervous to eat."

"Too nervous?" Harry frowned, wondering if maybe there was something about this that Snape hadn't told him. Formal Wizarding dinner. He hadn't really thought about that. Hadn't thought about it being formal.

He glanced down at his plate, remembering suddenly a time when he'd made the mistake of disturbing his Aunt's table prior to one of her formal dinners. He'd been perhaps six or seven years old, and quite curious about the fact that his Aunt had made such a fuss over her table setting. When he'd snuck out of his cupboard to look, he'd noticed the 'good' china -- something Petunia had kept locked away in a hutch. He vaguely remembered that there had been more than one crystal glass at each of the settings, and more than one fork. The silverware had looked unusually beautiful and he'd reached for one of the spoons just to see what the pattern was on the shining handle.

Petunia had spotted him then and had shrieked in outrage, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him away from the table. He remembered her calling him all sorts of names as she'd pulled him into the kitchen, intent on punishing him for daring to touch her things. Even now he could clearly remember her pulling him over to the sink and dousing his hand with scalding water from the teakettle. He'd been sobbing in pain by the time she'd dragged him back to his cupboard and thrown him inside, informing him that if he made one sound, one peep that night during their dinner, it would be a week before he saw another scrap of food.

He'd spent the night holding his red hand against his chest, biting his lip to keep himself silent, as he'd listened to the tinkling of fine china and the laughter of the Dursleys' guests. That had been his one and only exposure to any sort of formal dinner.

"What are they like?" Harry asked, apprehension filling him suddenly as he realized that he didn't have the first idea how to behave at a formal dinner. He knew he had decent manners; Mrs. Weasley told him so often enough. But he somehow doubted that any of the dinners he'd had at the Burrow were what someone would call formal. The twins regularly lobbed food items across the room at such gatherings.

"What are what like?" Hermione asked.

"Formal dinners," Harry explained. "I mean I saw my Aunt set her table once for a formal dinner, and there was more than one fork I remember. What do you need two forks for?"

"Good question, mate," Ron snickered. "Maybe it's so you can eat twice as much food."

"Haven't you ever had a meal at a nice restaurant, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry thought about that. The Dursleys had never even taken him for fast food, let alone a nice restaurant. Truthfully until he'd come to Hogwarts he rarely even got to sit at a table to eat. "I've eaten at the Leaky Cauldron. And we had ice cream in Diagon Alley."

"Oh," she said vaguely, looking over at Neville who gave her an uncertain shrug. "That's not really what I meant."

"The different forks are for different courses of the meal, Harry," Neville told him. "But this is a Wizarding dinner, which might mean you'll be using something called a 'scramasax' in the old language. That means a dagger."

"Daggers?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Depends on how considerate the Snapes are," Dean told him with a nod. "Since everyone knows you were raised by Muggles, courtesy demands that they make a concession to that and have proper Muggle implements like forks. But some of the old Pureblood families wouldn't be caught dead using a fork at a formal dinner."

"No forks?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

Ron nudged him, drawing his attention toward the Slytherin table. "Ever notice how Malfoy eats. He holds his knife in his dominant hand and spears his meat."

Harry glanced at Malfoy. He was deep in conversation with Blaise Zabini, but Ron was right. He held a rather pointy dinner knife in his dominant hand and a spoon in the other, only using the spoon when absolutely necessary. Most of the other Slytherins did the same -- and as Harry glanced around the hall he noticed they weren't the only ones. There were a number of Ravenclaws and even a few Gryffindors with similar manners.

A quick glance at the head table showed Snape doing the same thing. To his surprise so too was Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sinistra. Hagrid was like usual tearing at his food with his fingers.

Harry looked back at his friends in bewilderment. "What about daggers?"

"At a formal Wizarding dinner, there are typically only daggers and spoons at a setting. Forks are considered too Muggle, and even unlucky to have at a table," Neville explained.

Harry looked at Hermione for confirmation. She just shrugged. "I've never actually seen a formal Wizarding dinner myself," she informed him. "But I've read about them. They have all sorts of customs Muggles don't have."

"But I don't even know the Muggle customs," Harry protested. "How am I supposed to figure out the Wizarding ones?"

"We can give you a crash course, Harry," Neville offered. "I'm completely hopeless at formal occasions, but at least I know what the customs are. My grandma made certain of that."

"You can teach me everything I need to know by tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Well. . .." Neville looked skeptical. "We can try."

"Don't forget Quidditch practice," Ron reminded him. "That's more important than Snape's dinner."

"Not if Snape strangles him," Neville pointed out. And on that point Ron had to agree, though only grudgingly. Few things in his opinion were more important than Quidditch.

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Severus spent most of the day in the Potions Classroom, marking papers and preparing for next week's classes. He returned to his own rooms to dress early in the afternoon, since his family was expecting them around four o'clock. Harry was nowhere in evidence.

While Harry had been at Quidditch practice, Severus had chosen some appropriate clothing for the boy and had left it on the bed along with a note informing him of the time they had to be leaving. Now as he entered the bedroom he noticed that the clothing was gone, and his note was lying on the bedspread. A quick glance at it showed that Harry had scribbled a response to him at the bottom -- saying that he had something to do and would get dressed in Gryffindor Tower, but promised to be on time.

Just as well, Severus thought. It would save them from getting in each other's way.

He collected his own clothing from his wardrobe then retreated to the bathroom to shower. He found to his consternation that his mind was increasingly focused on Harry, and after realizing that he'd just spent the last ten minutes trying to picture what he would look like in the formal attire he'd chosen for him, he shook his head in disgust, thoroughly annoyed with himself.

Wrapping a towel around his waist as he left the shower, he dried his freshly washed hair with a quick spell before turning toward the mirror. He paused to look critically at himself, wondering what his siblings were going to think when they saw him standing beside Harry Potter. Most likely that he'd performed some sort of Dark Magic to coerce the boy into marrying him.

He was never going to win any beauty contests; that was for certain. He glared at his nose -- it had never been an attractive nose, and breaking it when he was younger had not improved it any. He was strong and fit enough he supposed, but didn't guess he had much else to commend him in the looks department. And even his body was marred by the ever-present Dark Mark upon his arm -- made even more noticeable by the strands of silver wrapped around it in warding.

Then there were the scars. He'd been in enough sword duels to have his fair share of them -- could have healed the injuries before they had scarred of course, but that wasn't the Slytherin way. The scars were a mark of honor in the Sword Circles. And from a young age he'd been taught to do things the proper Slytherin way. At least that was one old habit he'd abandoned -- he healed any new wounds he received quickly now, not giving it a chance to scar.

Harry had noticed the scars. That had surprised him. It meant that at some point since they'd been married, the boy had actually looked at him while at least partially undressed. So far Harry had been careful not to offer him the same opportunity, and he'd given the boy as much privacy as possible. Regardless, he was familiar enough with at least parts of Harry's body; in the last few years he'd helped Madam Pomfrey patch him back together a number of times.

He couldn't help wonder what the boy had thought of him though. He hadn't been able to tell from his single betraying statement when Lupin and Black had been telling him about Blood Sports. He supposed there was no point in laboring under the illusion that the boy might find him even remotely attractive. Golden Gryffindor boys didn't find slimy Slytherins attractive. It was a simple, well-known fact.

Of course, he'd never really done anything to try and improve his looks either. It had never been important to him.

He frowned at himself in the mirror, then picked up his wand to perform a quick shaving spell. Normally he preferred to use a straight razor, but the spell gave a cleaner look. A simple spell cleaned his teeth as well, and then on a whim he added another spell to whiten them. Marginally better he thought, and then dismissed it as hopeless, because after all who could ever really get past the nose to care about the other features.

With a sigh, he set down his wand and reached instead for his hair gel. He paused before opening the bottle, staring down at it thoughtfully. This was another habit taught to him by his Slytherin peers. All the fashionably dressed Death Eaters wore their hair slicked back in neat unmoving waves. Ironically it made the Death Eater masks easier to wear. It was a common practice among his generation of Slytherin, and as Draco Malfoy set the fashions for his age group, it was common enough amongst the students as well.

Slimy Slytherins, slick and greasy like snakes. Unlike the Golden Gryffindors who more closely resembled their shaggy Gryffindor lion. They typically wore their hair free and wild, with little thought to neatness or style. Like Lupin and Black. Like Harry, whose hair was perpetually messy, practically begging someone to comb their fingers through it to tame the locks.

Severus lowered the bottle of gel without opening it, glancing at himself again the mirror. Without the gel his hair looked silky and wild, and a great deal like Sirius Black's actually. But then maybe that was just the way that Gryffindors liked it? With a frown, he put the bottle of gel back in the cabinet unopened, silently mocking himself for hoping that it would make any difference at all to Harry one way or another. Another glare into the mirror, and he sighed in annoyance -- he absolutely could not abide the messiness -- no excuse for it really. But he could at least compromise -- he combed his hair as neatly as he could and tied it back with a black ribbon.

Enough vanity for one life time, he decided, and then turned his attention to his clothes. Dressing himself quickly in the breeches, doublet and boots he'd chosen for himself, he returned to the bedroom. A quick glance at the clock reminded him that it was nearly time to leave. He wondered if Harry was ready.

He returned to the main room, spotting Harry sitting somewhat pensively on the couch and staring into the fire. He didn't notice Severus immediately, giving him a moment to take in the boy's -- young man's he corrected himself, for there was nothing particularly boyish about him at the moment --appearance.

Harry was wearing the green doublet Severus had chosen for him, along with the dark, finely stitched, dragon hide pants and boots. The whole outfit was accented with silver -- glittering silver thread stitched into the doublet, decorative studs on the breeches. And having been tailor-made to Harry's measurements, they fitted Harry perfectly, the breeches sinfully form-fitting, the doublet highlighting Harry's slender, seeker build. His hair was still perpetually messy, his glasses somewhat awkward looking, but he looked as much like a young prince as any Slytherin pureblood Severus had ever seen.

He noticed Severus finally and stood quickly. Severus had to force himself to keep his eyes on the young man's face instead of moving down the line of his body as he wanted to do. Those breeches were really the height of decadence. He wondered if Harry had any idea how appealing he looked.

He was grateful a moment later that he had controlled his baser instincts for it afforded him a clear view of the expression on Harry's face as he took in his appearance. The boy's eyes widened behind those glasses, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"You look. . ." the boy began; Severus stiffened, bristling as he waited for the insult. "Nice."

Severus frowned. Nice. That was certainly more than he had expected. An actual complement, though he might consider himself damned with such faint praise.

And then would wonders never cease? "I like your hair," the boy added. Severus couldn't stop his own eyes from widening at that, though he resolved right then and there to toss out any remaining bottles of hair gel.

Harry flushed suddenly as if only just now realizing that he'd not only just complimented him, but done so twice. The boy crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that could only be called defensive, his face growing strangely blank all of a sudden, no doubt in reaction to the seizures Severus assumed he was suffering for daring to compliment him.

Severus decided to take mercy on him. "You look very nice too, Mr. Potter." He allowed just enough amusement and mockery to flavor his words that the boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are we through with the niceties?" Severus asked dryly.

"Please," Harry agreed just as dryly. He frowned suddenly. "Look about this dinner. . ."

Severus stilled, guessing this was where Harry backed out of going. He couldn't really blame him after all, the night would probably be miserable.

"I think I should warn you, I'm probably going to embarrass you," Harry finished, not at all what Severus had been expecting him to say.

"Excuse me?"

He noticed that Harry was rubbing nervously at one of his hands, an odd, unconscious gesture he had never seen before. He also looked unaccountably wary about something.

"Embarrass you," Harry explained. "In front of your family. Neville and Hermione tried to teach me some of the customs, but I've never been to anything formal before. I mean the closest I ever came was a brief glimpse at my Aunt's table setting, and I got punished for that. . .. " He broke off, a dark look in his eyes which he quickly shook away. "In any event Nev and 'Mione spent all afternoon telling me about daggers and salt and table linens, but most of it just went over my head. I just thought you ought to know."

Severus stared at him for a moment in silence, processing all he'd just heard. That the boy had made such an effort to learn Wizarding dinner etiquette in an effort not to embarrass him was extraordinary -- he couldn't help wondering what he had done to earn that consideration. But there was something else here, something that was making him far more nervous than it should. Harry had not yet stopped rubbing his left hand, as if it hurt.

"How did your Aunt punish you?" he asked quietly. As he suspected, his question drew the boy's attention directly to his hands, catching himself in the act of rubbing his left palm. Immediately he stopped, and he dropped his arms to his sides, his face shuttering the emotion that had flashed briefly across it. But it told Severus everything he needed to know -- the Aunt had hurt him, physically this time as the body was remembering even if the mind did not want to acknowledge it.

"That's not important," he said quickly. "The point is I am probably going to screw up royally by passing the salt with the wrong hand or buttering my bread on the wrong side. I just thought you should know."

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Are you concerned that this might anger me?" He suspected he understood the nervousness now as well -- while Harry might understand on a rational level that no one would punish him for a social transgression, the nervousness was coming from a completely unconscious part of his mind, one that remembered a lifetime of abuse.

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted, looking somewhat surprised that he'd been asked such a question. "I'm good at making you angry. I've had lots of practice. I just thought you should prepare yourself. You think potions class is bad, with me not knowing whether to slice or dice, well. . .. this will probably be a whole lot worse."

Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement, and he fought the smirk. Gryffindors were really too bloody honorable for their own good -- any Slytherin would see this as a perfect opportunity for revenge against him. If he cared about his family's opinion. Which he didn't.

"You seem to think that I care what my family thinks of me," Severus informed him. "Or you for that matter. I don't. In fact I think I would find it quite entertaining to watch my brothers and their wives squirming under social conventions while they try to make nice with the Boy Who Lived."

"Huh?" Harry looked confused.

Severus allowed a faint smile this time. "You seem to forget that without you their social standing in society is questionable at best. You could start a food fight at the table, and they would all smile and politely pretend that nothing was wrong."

"Really?" Harry grinned. "Well, okay then. I won't worry about it."

"Good," Severus agreed. He went over to the mantel to retrieve the port key he'd set there earlier -- a small silver coin that he could easily place in his pocket.

"So what can you tell me about your family?" Harry asked. "How many people are going to be there?"

"Don't know about the number of people," Severus admitted. "I have three brothers and my sister, Diana. The two older brothers, Claudius and Marcellus, are both very similar. Rather gruff, but sociable enough, though they had a tendency towards crassness I never cared for. Their wives sadly were chosen for their looks and not their brains -- a fact that quickly becomes apparent the moment they open their mouths. Diana is quiet, and sweet, a truly gentle soul -- her husband is the exact opposite." Severus shook his head at the thought. He'd always thought Diana had made a poor choice in husbands, and yet the two had always seemed fond of each other.

"And the other brother?" Harry asked curiously.

"Julius," Severus told him. "He's the youngest in the family. I don't really know him very well. He was still quite young when I had my falling out with the lot. But from what I remember I always thought that of all of us he was the most like our father. . .in mannerisms anyway. He's not a whole lot older than you actually."

"What about children?"

Severus shrugged. "My sister has two children, age three and four. Claudius has one, age six. I've never met them."

He saw Harry frown at that, and he pushed his own sense of regret away. It wasn't a very strong regret -- all things considered he didn't really enjoy children. But he supposed one of these days he ought to make an effort to get to know them. Considering the marriage he'd made for himself, he'd likely have no children of his own, and would have to pick one of his nieces or nephews as his heir eventually.

"Are you ready to go?" Severus asked him, holding up the port key. Harry nodded and moved toward him, reaching out to touch the coin with him. Severus tapped the coin with his wand, and a moment later they were both being pulled across the land.

-------------------------------

Author's Note: I had some fun playing around with the table etiquette -- though I admit I cut a great deal out of this chapter just because it got to be too much. The daggers are not my invention, but a reality of medieval England. Forks weren't introduced to England until the 1600, and were then ridiculed by society. They didn't really catch on in either England or America until the 1800s.

Since Wizarding England is trapped in the cultural past, I thought I'd exaggerate some of the odd etiquette rules that have existed over the years just to have a bit of fun. Harry, if the Dursleys truly had kept him from polite society, would likely be missing a lot of information most teenagers take for granted. He's polite enough -- most likely because such manners were beaten into him -- but he certainly wouldn't know the rules of etiquette of the upper-class. Nor I think would it be likely that he would notice such little details like the other students' table manners. Most teenaged boys don't notice things like that.

The 'scramasax' was a small weapon carried by many Englishmen in the middle ages. Along with being a weapon for defense, it was also considered a general-purpose tool, and was the primary instrument for eating. If I were being more traditional here, Harry would be required to bring his own dagger to the dinner instead of being supplied cutlery by his host.

As for Snape's appearance -- yes, it's yet another cliche. Don't all fanfiction authors have to deal with the issue of his greasy hair at some point? I hope you found my solution amusing.


	16. Chapter 16 Meeting the InLaws

Chapter 16 -- Meeting the In-Laws

Harry hadn't really known what to expect when he'd returned to the dungeons after his etiquette lessons with Neville and Hermione. He'd come to the conclusion, somewhere between discovering there was a right and wrong way to unfold your napkin and that salt could only be passed from the left to the right that he was probably going to make a complete fool of himself at dinner.

He'd later changed into the clothes Snape had chosen for him, amid hilarious comments from his former dorm mates. He'd stared horrified at himself in the bathroom mirror. "Don't you think these pants are a bit tight!" Harry had protested when he'd shown the results to Ron and the others. He felt horribly exposed in them. Looked more like something Gilderoy Lockhart would wear.

"Supposed to be that way, mate," Ron assured him.

"You look great Harry," Seamus agreed. "And if you don't believe us, let's go ask Colin."

That set Ron and Dean into a fit of giggles, and Harry had groaned in exasperation. The lot of them had come to the conclusion sometime in fifth year that poor Colin Creevy was hopelessly in love with Harry. Harry had of course not wanted to believe it, but had eventually given in when he'd discovered a life-sized picture of himself in Colin's dorm room next to the boy's bed.

"I have to go," he told his friends in disgust and tromped down the stairs to the common room. To his annoyance, the four of them followed swiftly behind.

The common room was unusually crowded for a Saturday afternoon, and as Harry entered he was greeted by a wave of good-natured whistles and catcalls, which had him bright red with embarrassment in a matter of moments. Hermione had eventually stepped in to shut them all up, but one glance at the look of hopeless adoration on Colin's face had set Ron and Dean into fits again and Harry had eventually had to flee to escape them all.

He'd waited nervously for Snape by the fire, worried about all the things Neville and Hermione had tried to teach him. There was no way he was going to get through a formal dinner without messing up royally, and he wasn't looking forward to enduring the wrath of Severus Snape. The man could flay a person alive with his voice alone. Harry had been on the receiving end of his sarcasm more times than he cared to remember, and he guessed before the night was though he was going to be utterly humiliated.

He looked up in shock as Snape had entered the room, almost not recognizing the man at first. No black robes for one -- he was dressed much the same as Harry was, only in dark blue instead of green. And damn! The man looked, well . . . attractive, maybe even handsome. Not in the Gilderoy Lockhart way of course -- Snape didn't really have the features for it. But he looked very distinguished certainly, and those clothes certainly emphasized the fact that the Potions Master had a good body. And there was something different about his hair; it looked. . . . really nice.

He vaguely remembered blurting out a couple of compliments, mortified by the fact that Snape had found them amusing. But at least the man hadn't really teased him over it.

And he'd been utterly amazed when Snape had put his fears to rest concerning the etiquette issue. Truth be told, it almost sounded as if Snape was hoping Harry did something shocking. He vaguely wondered if he could work out a way to earn points for Gryffindor by misbehaving.

He wasn't too keen on using portkeys, not since the Triwizard Tournament. But he took hold of the coin firmly and let himself be transported to wherever it was they were having dinner.

He staggered a bit as they landed, might have fallen if Snape hadn't grabbed hold of his elbow to steady him. "Sorry, don't like portkeys much," he muttered. Snape said nothing.

Looking up he noticed they were standing on a gravel roadway directly in front of large iron gates that were decorated with a rose pattern that reminded Harry of the tattoo he'd briefly seen on Snape's back. Beyond the gates Harry could see an enormous house with elaborate gardens surrounding it. "Is that Snape Manor?" Harry asked.

"No, that's Briarwood Hall," Snape informed him. The man turned him slightly toward a hill beyond the house. "That's Snape Manor."

Harry's eyes widened. Briarwood Hall seemed to be one part of a much larger estate, for beyond the gardens on a hill he could see a sprawling castle complete with tall towers, courtyards and at least three separate wings. "Wow," he exclaimed, unable to find a better word to describe the enormity of it. That would take a lot of paint!

"You really must do something to improve your vocabulary, Mr. Potter," Snape said dryly.

"Where exactly are we?" Harry wanted to know. "Is this far from Hogwarts?"

"Far is sort of a relative term," Snape replied. "We're in the County of High Hill."

Harry frowned. Geography had never been his strong suit, but he'd seen enough maps of Britain to at least know the basics. "There's no High Hill County in Britain."

"There's no High Hill County in Muggle Britain," Snape corrected. "You are standing in one of six unplottable counties in Britain, the western most to be exact."

Unplottable counties? Harry had heard of course of unplottable houses, but an entire county? He'd had no idea such a thing was even possible. And to think there were six of them in Britain. He wondered how many there were worldwide. "Do a lot of wizards live here?" he asked.

Snape shrugged. "A few I suppose." He pointed off down the road away from Briarwood Hall. "Minister Fudge lives a few miles down that way. And the Malfoy's live a bit farther north from here. A lot of the old families have estates in High Hill."

"What about the Burrow?" Harry asked curiously. He knew the Burrow was accessible by car, but at the same time he'd always felt it was somehow isolated or protected from the rest of the Muggle world.

Snape gave him a faint twisted smile. "The Burrow is east side," he told him and left it at that. Harry took a guess that the unplottable counties had some sort of economic status assigned to each of them.

Snape tapped his wand against the gate, and they waited while it swung open. Harry followed him through.

"We're not eating at Snape Manor?" Harry asked curious, as Snape was making toward Briarwood Hall instead.

"Snape Manor is my home," Snape informed him. "Though I haven't had it open in years. Briarwood Hall belongs to my brother Claudius." He frowned suddenly, glancing at Harry with an odd gleam in his eyes. "I should probably mention that at some point this evening a number of people will attempt to ask you permission to reopen the Manor. Under no circumstances give it."

"Why would they ask me?" Harry asked bewilderedly.

Snape shrugged. "It's as much your home now as it is mine," the man reminded him. "Regardless, it hasn't been open since my father died, and I don't think it's safe."

"Structurally unsound or because your father was a Death Eater?" Harry asked bluntly.

Snape gave him a mocking sneer. "There are spells to ensure a building remains structurally sound."

Which of course answered the question. Snape suspected there was Dark Magic lying in wait in the Manor house. "Fun," he muttered. Snape did not reply.

Two enormous wooden doors carved to look as if they were covered in rose vines were thrown open as Harry and Snape approached Briarwood Hall. From out of the house streamed a gaggle of people, so many that Harry found himself instinctively stepping toward Snape in alarm, wondering if perhaps they might have both just walked into a trap of some sort. He glanced quickly at Snape, noting that the man did not look alarmed, but he did look angry, a thunderous scowl upon his face, and a black glare he recognized far too well.

Greetings were shouted out, welcomes were called, and Harry found himself shaking hands with total strangers, trying to catch the names that were offered him. Eventually Harry felt a strong hand close around his shoulder and Snape pulled Harry out of the center of the crowd and propelled him toward a smaller group, his glare effectively deterring anyone from protesting.

"Harry, these are my brothers Claudius and Marcellus and their wives Julliana and Delphina," Snape introduced, his voice just barely above a menacing growl.

Claudius and Marcellus were definitely related to Snape. Both men had the Snape nose and coloring. But beyond that the resemblance was slight. Neither man was as tall as their elder brother, and both were a great deal bulkier. Marcellus sported a full beard, though neatly trimmed. They each shook Harry's hand, welcoming him to the family politely enough, but they eyed Harry up and down assessingly as if measuring him against something.

Julliana and Delphina were both extraordinarily beautiful women, one golden-haired, the other a redhead. And they both giggled in excitement when Harry shook their hands, Delphina going so far as to actually drop a curtsey to him.

"And those," Snape growled, pointing to the large mob of people who had surrounded Harry initially. "Are apparently in-laws." The man glared at Julliana and Delphina, who both just smiled pleasantly back at him. Apparently the two women had invited their entire families to this little gathering.

"This is my sister Diana, and her husband Alrik Brand," Snape continued with the introductions, motioning to the next two people waiting to meet him.

Diana Snape Brand was quite attractive. Her dark hair and dark eyes complimented her pale complexion, and her features were delicate and well formed. But more than that she had a quiet grace to her that reminded Harry surprisingly of a young McGonagall. She gifted Harry with a warm smile as she shook his hand, seeming genuinely pleased to meet him. Her eyes practically glowed when she looked up at her oldest brother.

Alrik Brand on the other hand was her exact opposite. He was enormously tall, heavily muscled and sported the hair and beard of a Viking. Indeed the man towered over all of them, and scowled down at Harry as if looking at the runt of a litter. He squeezed a bit harder than necessary when he shook Harry's hand.

"And this is my youngest brother Julius," Snape said then, motioning to the last member of the group.

Harry barely managed to stifle his gasp when he noticed Julius for the first time. He'd rather expected the fourth brother to look like the others, but Julius Snape was as different from Claudius, Marcellus and Severus as night was to day. Granted he had the same coloring, the dark hair, dark eyes, and the pale skin. But while Diana, who'd been spared the Snape family nose, was pleasantly pretty, Julius was heart-stoppingly beautiful. He was nearly as tall as Severus, slender and strong looking. But there the resemblance ended. His features were flawless, perfectly formed, high cheekbones, chiseled jaw, sinfully full red lips. Even the pale skin all the Snapes possessed seemed more like the finest alabaster on him. And he was dressed to catch the eye, a black velvet doublet lined with deep burgundy silk, his hands adorned with several glittering rings.

He gave Harry a slow sensual smile as he shook his hand, and like his brothers he looked Harry over quite thoroughly, but his eyes glittered with something more akin to hunger. It made Harry shiver in a most uncomfortable manner, and he shot a nervous glance toward Snape wondering if he had noticed. Snape was watching him intently, his scowl replaced now by a look of dark contemplation.

And then Diana was urging them all back inside the house, and the uncomfortable moment was gone.

Harry barely had time to admire the beautiful architecture of Briarwood Hall before he was surrounded by the mob of in-laws again. He managed, just barely to follow Snape into the main parlor with the rest of the family before he was cut off by a gaggle of women and men who seemed amazed to find the Boy Who Lived in their presence.

"Are you really an advisor to Minister Fudge?" one woman asked breathlessly.

"Are you really a secret player for England's Quidditch team?" a young man asked before Harry could answer the first woman's question.

"I heard you knew how to Apparate by the time you were seven years old!" another man exclaimed while Harry was still contemplating how someone could play secretly for a Quidditch team. "How did you manage that?"

"According to Witch Weekly you used to date a foreign Veela Princess," a matronly looking woman announced. "How ever did you end up with Severus?"

"Can you really tame dragons just by singing to them?"

"Is your broom really made out of Merlin's staff?"

"Do evil creatures really burst into flame when they touch you?"

Harry, who'd made it a point not to read the tabloids, stared at all of them in growing alarm. Surely people didn't believe this stuff -- okay Quirrell had burst into flames upon touching him, but that was different.

"Can I see your scar?"

Harry would have treated this question with the same disbelief as the rest of them if it hadn't come from a small boy of perhaps six years. He sighed and crouched down in front of the child, tuning out the rest of the adults as he pushed his bangs out of the way.

The little boy smiled happily at him, his eyes widening in delight as he stared at the lightning bolt scar upon Harry's forehead. That reaction would have been fine, if all the adults surrounding him didn't take it as a cue to surge forward and touch him, trying to reach the infamous scar with their fingers. Several of the women looked as if they were attempting to kiss the scar. Harry backed away in shock, nearly stumbling over his own feet in an effort to get away from them.

"That's enough!"

Harry was never so happy to see his Potions Master striding angrily toward him, blackest scowl fixed on his face. Instinctively he reached out to him, relieved when his hand was caught and he was pulled out of the middle of the crowd. He unashamedly hid behind Snape's body. "Back off!" Snape snarled at the crowd when they attempted to follow. They all stopped, looking appropriately terrified by the raging wizard.

"Now, Severus," Delphina pleaded. "They just wanted to see him. It's not every day they get to meet such a celebrity."

Harry cringed at the description, knowing exactly what Snape thought of celebrities. The Potions Master turned his black glare on his sister-in-law. "Well, they've seen him. Now make them go away. I didn't bring him here to be mobbed by this ridiculous rabble. Either they go, or we go!"

Delphina, who had been looking quite affronted at her family being called rabble, paled upon hearing Snape's threat to leave. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Right, of course. We'll, they weren't going to be staying for dinner anyway." She began shooing the lot of them out the door, Julliana moving quickly to help her. The crowd began dispersing with much protest.

"My apologies, Harry," Snape said, much to Harry's surprise. He'd actually been expecting to feel the wrath of Snape's tongue next himself. "Had I known you'd been set upon by a pack of wild dogs, I never would have brought you here."

Harry had also caught Snape's usage of his first name. They hadn't discussed it themselves, but Hermione had made it a point to tell him that he should probably use Snape's first name in public. It would look odd if he didn't. "That's okay, Severus," he replied, the name odd on his tongue. He saw something flickering in Snape's eyes, took a moment to realize that it was approval, before the man nodded in acceptance.

"I see you're still as charming as ever, Severus," Claudius remarked. "Wild dogs? Bit harsh don't you think?"

Severus turned to glare at his brother. "Hardly. I assume you thought we'd find this amusing?"

Claudius shrugged. "They wanted to meet him. You can hardly blame them? I'm sure Harry -- can I call you Harry -- gets this all the time."

"Yes, Sev, calm down," Marcellus agreed. "I mean the crowd must have been five times this size last week when Harry addressed the Witches Herbology Society's Luncheon."

"He's in school, you imbecile!" Snape roared. "He's not going around giving speeches at Luncheons! And since when did you start believing the tabloids!"

"Now see here, Severus!" Marcellus blustered, and Harry could see that far from being a reconciliation between brothers, this was going to erupt into a new family feud. Harry recognized the signs from living with Vernon Dursley for so long.

"Excuse me!" he cut in quickly, stepping between Severus and his brothers. The three of them looked at him in surprise. "No one came here to fight. Let's try changing the subject, shall we?"

Claudius and Marcellus looked baffled, as if the idea had not occurred to them -- or maybe they just weren't used to someone running interference. Severus looked -- actually Harry wasn't entirely certain how to interpret the look on the man's face. He suspected he'd probably just lost his house a few dozen points for daring to interrupt him while he was working himself up into a full fledged fit.

"Yes, please!" Diana chimed in immediately, stepping forward and smiling graciously at Harry. "Harry is right. We're all here to get to know each other again. Let's not start out with a senseless fight."

Severus' expression softened fractionally, and Harry sent Diana a grateful look.

"Now who wants something to drink!" Delphina exclaimed with a bright smile as she and Julliana returned to the room, having gotten rid of the in-laws. They breezed into the midst of the group, not noticing the tensions at all and began handing out various drinks to those present.

As Alrik took a whiskey glass from Julliana, he gave a nod to Harry. "Should have let them fight," he murmured just loud enough that only Harry could hear him. "Most fun we would have had all night. I was rather looking forward to it."

Harry said nothing as he took a glass of pumpkin juice from Delphina. Nervously he took a quick sip, then nearly choked as it burned his throat all the way down, leaving his eyes watering. Alrik slapped him hard on the back, grinning at him. "That brandy is from my private stock. Don't waste it," the man told him.

His reaction set Claudius and Marcellus laughing and they grinned good-naturedly at him. "Sev hasn't let you get into his private stores yet, I take it?" Claudius asked. "Shame on you, Severus. You're supposed to share everything."

Harry shot a nervous look at Severus, not certain what sort of reaction to expect from this. Severus just glared at his brother. "He never asked," he said simply.

"I'm not much of a drinker," Harry volunteered, hoping that brandy-laced pumpkin juice wasn't the only thing he was going to be offered all night.

"Would you prefer a butterbeer, Harry?" Julius suggested, holding up a familiar looking bottle.

"Thank you," Harry nodded gratefully. Julius be-spelled off the cap and handed the bottle and a glass to Harry. Oddly, he made a point of touching Harry's hands unnecessarily as he handed them over, and Harry glanced up into his face in surprise. The man just smiled at him, then moved away as Diana began telling Severus about her children and what they had all been doing these last few years.

-----------------------------------

Author's Notes: As far as I know 'Snape' isn't a Roman name, but I got a kick out of giving the entire family Roman names. 'Severus' is certainly Latin.


	17. Chapter 17 Thorns

Chapter 17 - Thorns

They sat for a while in the parlor, Diana making an attempt to keep the conversations amongst the brothers civil. But Harry could see that the animosity amongst the three oldest at least was not going to be overcome in one night. Julius, for his part, seemed not to care about the family squabble, and participated very little in the discussion. Instead, to Harry's consternation, he spent the majority of his time staring at Harry. Whenever Harry looked over at him it was to see those dark eyes gazing speculatively at him, almost hungrily. It made him very uncomfortable.

True to Severus' word, Claudius, Marcellus, Delphina and Julliana each found a moment to speak privately with Harry, asking him about his plans for Snape Manor. The two women offered graciously to have it redecorated for him, while the two men pointed out the importance of having a suitable home for someone of his status to entertain important dignitaries in. Harry just smiled at them all and told them to talk to Severus about the subject since he was far to busy with his schoolwork to think about such matters. They each looked disappointed but not deterred.

Eventually Delphina and Julliana ushered them all into the dining room for dinner. Harry was seated beside Julius, directly across the table from Severus. One glance at the table showed the expected daggers Neville had talked about. To his relief there were also forks at each of the settings, but they were set off at an odd angle -- indication Neville had explained that they were there simply as a courtesy to a Muggle-born guest, and not really intended for use.

Before the first course was served, a toast was made, Claudius giving a somewhat longwinded speech welcoming Harry to the family -- something that would have been fine in and of itself, if he hadn't also managed to lace it generously with hints about their family name being formerly tarnished so egregiously. Severus, surprisingly, endured the comments in silence, most likely for Diana's sake, but they made Harry angry. It wasn't a whole lot different than that first letter they had sent to Severus. Harry had never gotten along with Severus, but he knew exactly what it felt like to be treated like scum by one's family. And considering that Severus was in fact the hero of this little family drama and not the villain, as his brothers would have everyone believe, it was doubly unfair.

Fine, he thought in irritation. If they were going to be rude, then he wasn't going to worry about offending them. When the first course was served, he unfolded his silk napkin in a decidedly Muggle fashion, and reached immediately for the fork, bypassing the dagger entirely. When he glanced over at Severus, he thought he detected the faintest of smirks on the man's face; there was certainly a definite gleam of amusement in his eyes. Harry just grinned at him, and wondered what other mistakes he could make.

Sure enough his manners went completely uncommented -- not unnoticed. Harry was quietly amused to see that they were not unnoticed -- Julliana actually made a warding sign against evil when he passed the salt the wrong direction. But no one said anything about it.

Julius distracted him for a good portion of the dinner, asking him about his position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, a subject he loved to talk about. While talking he forgot about the man's intense looks that made him so uncomfortable, and actually managed to enjoy himself. "What about you?" he eventually asked Julius. "Did you play in school?"

Julius shrugged. "I tried out for a team, but I really was never much of a flyer. I didn't mind though -- it was just as much fun to watch the game I thought."

Harry disagreed with him there, but didn't say so. "What house were you in?"

"House?" Julius asked looking briefly confused. "Oh, yes of course. The Houses. I didn't go Hogwarts. I went to Beauxbatons. We all did, except for Severus."

"Really?" Harry knew his surprise showed on his face.

Marcellus, who'd overheard their conversation, leaned forward. "Yes, Harry," he said, loudly enough for the rest of the family to hear. "Severus was the only one at Hogwarts. I'm afraid Father was overly concerned with appearances. Didn't think the rest of us would get sorted into the right House."

"The right house?" Harry frowned, recognizing the insult for what it was, but not knowing what to do about it.

"He means Slytherin of course," Severus informed him, voice silky smooth and laced with animosity.

"That was your house, wasn't it, Severus?" Marcellus remarked, though it was obvious he knew the answer already. "Merlin forbid that the son of a Death Eater be sorted into any house other than Slytherin. I'm afraid Father didn't really trust the rest of us."

Harry felt his anger resurfacing, not because he felt any fondness for Slytherin, but because these attacks against Severus were all horribly unfair. He could see a cold gleam in Severus's eyes, and Diana or no Diana, Harry didn't think he was going to put up with such behavior much longer.

"You know, I think you have a skewed notion of the different houses and the Death Eaters," Harry informed them.

"Hardly," Marcellus scoffed. "Everyone knows Slytherin produces nothing but Death Eaters."

That was a direct attack this time, and Severus' hand tightened on the handle of his dagger. Harry glared down the table at Marcellus. "Actually, sir, you're wrong. The Death Eaters have a mixture of all the houses amongst them, not to mention a fair few numbers from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. In fact Peter Pettigrew, the man who raised Voldemort from the dead two years ago, was a Gryffindor."

With the exception of Severus, the lot of them flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name. It was Alrik who got over the shock the quickest and spoke. "You seem to have your facts confused. Peter Pettigrew was murdered years ago by Sirius Black."

Harry shook his head. "Sirius Black was innocent. Peter Pettigrew framed him for those murders. Two Gryffindors -- one good, one evil. All the houses are like that. Severus is a prime example. He's saved my life more times than I care to count. And he's risked his life for years to protect the Wizarding World from the Death Eaters. I'd say all of you have your facts confused if you think otherwise."

His words were greeted by silence, his challenge implicit in his tone. Harry risked a glance at Severus. The man was staring at him, a look of surprise on his face that bordered on shock. Harry couldn't help wonder if anyone had ever stood up for the man before? It was the least he could do, he thought. He still owed him for defending him against Draco that first day they were married.

"Well, that's the whole point of this dinner, isn't it?" Diana said quickly, ending the silence and looking around the table with a hopeful smile on her face. "To get our facts straight finally, and put the past behind us?"

Marcellus and Claudius looked at one another and then nodded grudgingly. "Yes, of course," Claudius agreed. "I suppose the Boy Who Lived should know if anyone does."

And to Harry's consternation he recognized that even that was a stab at Severus -- they would take Harry's word for it. Severus's word wasn't good enough. But he saw Severus shake his head almost imperceptibly, telling him to let it ago. Harry sighed, wondering how the man could stand it.

"The Boy Who Lived," Julliana mused somewhat dreamily, breaking the tension. "Has such a wonderful sound to it. Tell me, Harry, what's it like being the Boy Who Lived?" She spoke his so-called title with something close to reverence.

"Excuse me?" Harry stared at her, uncertain what she meant.

"I imagine it must be utterly exhausting," she continued, smiling at him.

Delphina nodded in agreement. "Utterly exhausting," she repeated. "It would seem to me that the hardest part would be all the autograph signing."

"Oh, no, dear," Julliana disagreed. "I'd say answering all his fan mail would be far worse. He'd actually have to write more than just his name there."

"Well, what do you say, Harry?" Delphina asked. "What would you say is the worst part about being the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry just stared at them in disbelief. "I guess," he said hesitantly, "it would be all the people trying to kill me."

His words were greeted by looks of utter shock, and one barely stifled bark of laughter which Harry realized to his amazement had come from Severus. Severus actually had one hand over his mouth, and was visibly struggling to keep from laughing again. That was definitely approval he saw glittering in those dark eyes this time.

"Oh," Delphina said vaguely. "I suppose that would be difficult."

"Still," Julliana added, apparently having not understood what Harry had said. "I think my hand would start hurting if I had to sign so many autographs."

"Severus," Diana cut in quickly, changing the subject. "Why don't you tell us about your work? I understand your potion skills have far exceeded anything even Mother ever mastered."

Severus, having gotten control of his laugher, shrugged dismissively. "Well, considering the woman poisoned herself, that wasn't difficult to do."

Harry looked over at him in surprise. "Your mother poisoned herself?"

Severus smirked. "Yes, it's one of those obnoxious little family secrets that I'm sure you'll find fascinating."

Harry glanced at the others, wondering if anyone would fill him in. Diana smiled at him. "It's a peculiar story, Harry," she told him. "Not many people know it. Our mother had a rather odd, singular obsession. Have you ever heard the story of Snow White?"

Harry frowned. "Seven dwarves, poison apple, enchanted sleep, true love's kiss. That story?"

"Well, it was actually seven house elves," Diana told him. "But no doubt you heard the Muggle version of the story. The Wizarding version is quite a bit different. Our mother however was interested in the potion brewing aspects of the story."

"She wanted to make a poison apple?" Harry asked, wondering if that was how the woman had poisoned herself.

"Actually, Harry, the poisoned apple is remarkably easy to make," Severus informed him. "Even the enchanted sleep and true love's kiss part is easy enough to brew. A thousand wizards have come up with some variant on that old spell. Mother had no interest in that part of the story."

Confused, Harry glanced back at Diana. He couldn't remember any other potion that was brewed in the story.

"It was the beginning of the story that held our Mother's interest," Diana explained. "The part about the queen who wanted the perfect child. The fairest child in the land, with hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, and skin as white as snow."

White as snow. . . .Harry frowned, only to be struck a moment later by realization, a chill running down his spine as he spared a shocked glance around the room at all the Snapes sitting before him. All with the blackest hair and the whitest skin -- he turned toward the impossibly beautiful Julius. Harry's eyes widening in shock, for the description fit him perfectly. The man smiled at him in amusement, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the thought Harry had not spoken but was obviously written plainly on his face.

"She tried with all of us, of course," Diana continued. "And continuously fell short. Until Julius."

"You said she poisoned herself," Harry said, forcing his gaze away from Julius Snape.

Severus smirked bitterly. "Yes, Mother failed to remember one little detail of that pathetic story. The queen dies in childbirth, and never gets to lay eyes on her perfect child. With every experimental potion she took, she risked her own life and the health of her children for something as silly as vanity."

"Did you ever ask her why it was so important to her?" Harry asked, finding himself fascinated by the story. He wondered if all Wizarding families had similar strangeness in their past.

"Mother didn't talk about her work," Marcellus told Harry. "Truth was we knew she was working on something, but we didn't know what. Severus was the one who went through her notebooks after she died and figured out what she was doing."

"Is that what got you interested in potions?" Harry asked.

Severus shrugged. "I had an interest prior to that," he admitted. "But it certainly didn't hurt. Nothing like a family secret to spark your interest."

They spoke some more about their mother, Harry listening attentively, curious about Severus Snape's past. It seemed that so long as they kept their conversation focused on their early childhood years, without mention of their father, the three older brothers kept fairly civil tongues. Julius only participated in the conversation occasionally, Diana making it a point to keep all of them on safe topics.

That dinner ended without any major bloodshed, Harry counted it a success. When they all retired again to the parlor, Harry excused himself to go to the bathroom, dawdling somewhat longer in the halls than necessary. It occurred to him that Severus might like some time alone with his siblings, or at least with Diana and he wasn't certain how to arrange it.

As it turned out, he didn't have to bother. Julius intercepted him in the hallway before he could reenter the parlor. "I thought perhaps you might like to look at the gardens, Harry," he offered. "It will give Severus a chance to speak with the others alone. I suspect they wish to discuss the future of Snape Manor. It's always been a rather sore point amongst them, and I doubt you want to get pulled into the center of that fight."

Remembering Severus' warnings about the Manor, Harry just nodded in agreement. "Sure," he agreed, falling into step beside the youngest Snape. "Bit dark though to be looking at the gardens, isn't it?" He'd thought a tour of the house would be more appropriate.

Julius flashed him a brilliant smile, his dark eyes glittering. "Oh, you needn't worry about that. They're well lit with Wizard Lights. Briarwood Hall is famous for its rose hedges. You have to see them before you leave."

He opened a side door that led out onto an exterior courtyard and a garden path. As Harry stepped through, he would have sworn he felt a hand lightly caress his back, and he glanced curiously at Julius as he walked beside him. The man just smiled again, making a broad sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate the garden beyond the courtyard.

It had grown dark, the waning moon still nearly full overhead. Beneath the light of the moon Harry could see the distant shape of Snape Manor on the far hilltop, but his eyes were drawn toward the garden Julius intended to show him. He'd seen pictures of garden mazes -- enormous hedgerows groomed into a maze pattern -- but he'd never seen one up close. And this garden maze was extraordinary, for it was made of enormous, tangled cluster of rose vines, twisting and locking in on each other to form the hedges. They towered well over his head, and all of them were in full bloom, enormous blood red roses filling the heavy night air with their scent. True to Julius' word, the maze was lit with glowing balls of light burning at the base of various hedges, giving the entire garden an eerie bluish glow beneath the cold moonlight.

As they stepped into the maze, Julius leading the way, the scent of the roses struck Harry, their perfume rather heady. Harry noticed that the thorns on the rose vines were deadly looking, long and horribly sharp. He didn't envy the gardener who had to tend to them.

They walked for a while, Harry asking a few simple questions about the estate they were on and about the estates that were nearby. He found it odd to think that Malfoy Manor was only a few miles away. And beyond that, it seemed the LeStranges had a home, along with the Goyles and the Parkinsons. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that the majority of the people living in High Hill were either trying to kill him, or had been killed fighting him.

"Do you like it?" Julius asked as they walked. "The garden, I mean?"

"It's beautiful," Harry admitted. He'd done enough gardening at the Dursleys to appreciate the work that must have gone into the maze, though he supposed wizards probably had all sorts of gardening spells to make things easier. It occurred to him that Madam Sprout would love this place.

"It's been in my family for centuries," Julius told him, as he led him further into the maze, moving down twisted paths and corridors. "My mother loved this garden."

Harry frowned at that. From what he gathered from the story he'd heard earlier, Julius' mother had died when he was born. How would he know that his mother had loved this garden?

"Would you rather go back and visit with the others?" Harry asked him, thinking it was probably unfair of him to keep Julius from his brother's company. He probably didn't know Severus all that well and would want to speak with him privately as well. Harry was perfectly capable of looking the gardens over alone. Besides, the scent of the roses was growing overpowering, and he was getting anxious to move away from their perfume.

But Julius just laughed. "I was a child when Severus left," he told Harry. "I barely know the man. Besides, I'd much rather get to know you. I find you far more intriguing." To Harry's surprise, the man raised a hand as he spoke, and actually brushed a lock of Harry's hair back behind his ear, a remarkably intimate gesture that made Harry extremely uncomfortable. Even Ron wouldn't have done something like that, and he knew Ron far better than this man. He felt suddenly dizzy, and suspected the rose scent was starting to get to him.

But again Julius just smiled and continued on as if nothing had happened. "I imagine it must have been a great disappointment to you," Julius said as he led Harry around another corner and into a small courtyard with a gazebo in the center of it. "To find yourself married to Severus."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean?"

Julius turned and smiled at him again, a knowing look in his eyes. "I mean he can hardly be the sort of lover a young man like you dreamed of having." He laughed at the thought. "You must have been horrified, to find yourself at the mercy of someone so hard and cold. And Severus is certainly nothing to look at. Do you cringe every time he touches you, or have you gotten used to being forced to submit to him?"

"What?" Harry stared at the man in shock, not having any clue how to respond to his words. At least when his Slytherin classmates had made their rude innuendoes they had all been in the form of crude insults. This was different; this was somehow far more personal, and he did not like the way this conversation was going at all. And he'd swear the scent of roses was getting stronger, the perfume oddly intoxicating.

"You're quite beautiful, you know," Julius told him, and Harry found himself blushing in spite of himself. "I imagine Severus didn't wait long to get his hands on you. How you must have hated having that beast touch you." He reached out to touch Harry's hair again, but Harry slapped his hand away and stepped back.

"That's your brother you're talking about!" he exclaimed in disbelief. Beast? Alright, the Gryffindors had certainly called him worse things than that over the years, but this was the man's own flesh and blood for God's sake! And besides, Severus had been more than decent to him. Not to mention the fact that Julius obviously didn't have a clue about who his brother was or why they had gotten married in the first place. He'd assumed it was just Claudius and Marcellus who believed Severus was still a Death Eater. Now he could see that Julius' opinion of the man was no better.

"Yes, he is my brother," Julius agreed, still smiling. "Which puts me in a remarkable position to ease your suffering. No one would ever think twice about why you were spending so much time in the company of your brother-in-law. Such family ties are encouraged." As he spoke he took several steps closer to Harry; Harry backed up just as quickly, starting to realize where this conversation was going.

"You don't actually think I'd be interested in you, do you?" Harry exclaimed in amazement. He couldn't believe he was in this situation -- being propositioned by Severus Snape's brother. It was ludicrous.

Julius laughed softly. "Of course you're interested," he replied. "I've seen the way you look at me. I know you want me. Who wouldn't chose me over Severus?"

Harry found himself growing red with embarrassment -- okay, maybe he had thought the man was beautiful, but anyone would think the same thing. But it seemed he'd inherited more than his magical beauty from his mother -- Julius also apparently possessed her vanity. "You don't know me," he told the man. "And you don't know your brother. I'm not interested. Goodbye!" He turned to leave, willingly admitting that for once he was way out of his depth here. He had no idea how to react to the amorous advances of a man who seemed to think he was irresistible.

The corridor, through which they had entered the courtyard, was gone.

Harry stared in alarm at the impenetrable wall of rose vines in front of him. He turned, looking swiftly around him, thinking that perhaps he'd gotten turned around. But there didn't seem to be any opening in the hedge wall.

"There is an exit," Julius assured him with a soft laugh. "But only if you know where to look. This is a maze after all. But the thorns on the vines are strong enough to rip the flesh from your bones if you make the slightest mistake. And I'm the only one who knows the secret of the maze, the only one who can lead you back out again."

Harry felt his heart beginning to pound, his stomach knotting as he realized that he'd been lured out here, and he'd foolishly gone willingly. Led astray by a pretty face. He moved away from Julius again, stepping up into the gazebo, hoping that he might be able to see the exit from there. He supposed if worse came to worse he could burn the hedge down -- provided it wasn't protected against such spells.

Julius followed him to the gazebo. "Do you like the scent of the roses?" he asked curiously. "They're yet another legacy of my Mother's. She used these very flowers in her potions. They're in my blood. Their scent has been known to drive men and woman mad with desire for me."

Harry paled, understanding what he was saying. He hadn't been that far off the mark when he'd thought the scent intoxicating. Apparently it acted like some sort of compulsion or charm, perhaps an aphrodisiac or love spell. But he'd thrown off the Imperious time and time again -- he wasn't going to be swayed by this!

"I told you, Julius, I'm not interested!" Harry growled. He couldn't believe that the man really expected him to just fall into his arms. He was completely mental!

Julius' eyes darkened, his smile growing colder suddenly. "You seem to think I care?" Julius laughed, and then suddenly between one heart beat and the next, he was on Harry, pushing him roughly back against one of the pillars of the gazebo, pinning him with his own body, head lowering, lips descending.

The attack was so sudden, and so unexpected Harry barely had time to react. As it was he only managed to turn his head aside to avoid the brutal kiss aimed at his mouth. Julius didn't seem deterred however, attacking instead the tender skin of his neck, his hands moving over Harry's body as he struggled.

Harry hadn't been expecting a physical attack -- nothing Julius had done so far had suggested he would try to over power Harry. And he was stronger than Harry -- a great deal stronger, age, height, and muscle all working in his favor. Harry knew he had to get his wand drawn -- if this was allowed to continued on a physical level he'd be in serious trouble. His alarm transmuted into blinding rage when he felt one of Julius' hands groping between his legs, touching him through the leather of his pants.

Without thinking he slammed his head forward, smashing it against Julius' head hard enough to knock the man briefly back. It was all the opening Harry needed. He shoved Julius roughly away from him, drawing his wand as he stepped back out of the gazebo, the tip of his wand already glowing, a curse barely held in check as Harry fought to gain control of his anger. He could hurt the man, he realized, kill him perhaps, he was so angry. His body shook with fury.

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Author's Note: No, I'm not going to give away what happens next. I just wanted to make a brief comment on the whole Snow White thing before anyone thinks I'm going in a completely different direction with this story. It was an amusing story that came to me while I was writing the dinner scene -- and nothing more. I couldn't resist keeping it and it seemed to fit in perfectly with the rose hedge and Julius' behavior. More on the subject in the next author's note.

And kudos to all my clever readers -- you spotted Julius' intentions immediately!

BTW -- when I said 'Severus' was Latin, I meant Latin as in the language the Romans spoke, not Latino. It sparked some rather funny emails.


	18. Chapter 18 Heart of the Maze

Chapter 18 Heart of the Maze

For Severus, the night had been one surprise after another -- not all of them pleasant. Harry's reaction to the Manor had amused him, but that humor was quickly dampened by the mob of people that fell upon the Boy Who Lived as if he were Merlin reincarnated.

He had, unfairly he supposed, always assumed that Harry reveled in his celebrity status. But the look of horror on the boy's face quickly set that belief to rest, as did the way he practically hid behind him when he'd rescued him from their midst.

He should have expected something like that, he supposed. Not exactly his brothers' doing, he knew, but they could have at least tried to rein in their wives. Julliana and Delphina had sadly grown no more intelligent since he'd last seen them.

Diana was much like he remembered her, and he was pleased at how happy she seemed to be to see him. The mistrust he could see in Alrik, Claudius and Marcellus had not faded in the slightest, but Diana at least did not believe their lies.

Julius he couldn't read. The young man had greeted him politely enough, but for all intents they were total strangers to each other. Julius had been a child when Severus had last seen him, though he had forgotten how beautiful he was. Harry's reaction to him hadn't gone unnoticed, and Severus admitted that the pang of emotion he'd felt at that had most definitely been jealousy.

But it had answered a question he'd been wondering about. Just because the Marriage Stone had chosen Severus for Harry didn't mean that Harry had any interest in men. Far from it. The magic of the Marriage Stone was such that it chose the best possible match for a person -- there was no guarantee that it would in any way shape or form resemble a love match. In Harry Potter's case, it was just as likely that the best possible match was someone who could protect him, teach him, fight beside him, and ensure that he had a chance to grow up and live his life. It didn't promise love. The most famous matches the Stone was responsible for had all been love matches, but they were by no means the only matches. It was possible that Harry Potter, while destined for greatness, was not destined for love. Or maybe it had simply realized that Severus Snape would not hinder any such ambition for love, because ultimately Severus knew he had no real claim over the boy and would look the other way when Harry did finally decide to love someone. Provided the boy was discreet, he certainly wasn't going to stand in the way of his happiness.

But up until that moment with Julius, Severus had never seen Harry look at a man with any sexual interest at all. Truth was the only person he'd ever seen Harry look at had been Cho Chang, and even that had seemed only half hearted at best. He suspected the boy was too distracted with all the people trying to kill him to really care one way or the other about the things most students his age were obsessing over.

But the flush that had stained Harry's face when he'd looked at Julius had been very telling. He was definitely capable of seeing beauty in the male form. Pity it had to take someone no one else could possibly compete with to catch his eye. He supposed that left him far out of the running.

All things considered, the evening with his family actually went by quickly. Harry, far from being nervous and awkward like he'd expected, had continuously surprised and amused Severus. He decided he liked hearing his given name on Harry's lips -- and after the fourth or fifth time, it even started to sound natural.

And he watched with amusement as Harry tossed aside Wizarding protocol almost blithely, completely ignoring the dagger in favor of the fork despite the fact that he'd apparently practiced with it with Longbottom and Granger. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that the Gryffindor brat was attempting to make him laugh.

A little while later Harry had succeeded in stunning him most profoundly when he'd all but tossed the proverbial gauntlet down before his brothers, calling them on their less than subtle insults, and defended his name and his honor with an eloquence he hadn't known the boy possessed. It had silenced them all, and for the first time Severus had understood why this young man inspired such loyalty.

It was later, when they returned to the parlor, that his brothers eventually broached the topic he'd been expecting all evening -- the fate of Snape Manor. He wondered if they had already spoken with Harry about it, and reminded himself to ask the boy when they returned to Hogwarts.

"I told you Claudius," he informed his brother after his impassioned speech about the importance of the Manor. "I have no intention of reopening the manor until I get a chance to see what sort of surprises Father might have left behind. My schedule has not yet permitted me the opportunity."

"It's not fair to relegate us to a lesser house while that one sits empty!" Claudius exclaimed in anger. "You keep us from it to punish us. You keep us. . ."

Severus tuned the man out, having heard this speech before. He'd even read a written version of it in letters over the years while they were not speaking to each other. He wondered what was taking Harry so long to return to the parlor, and he glanced at the door in concern. He noticed then that Julius was also gone, and an uncomfortable suspicion pricked his mind.

"Where's Julius?" he demanded, interrupting Claudius' speech.

Claudius fell silent, snorting in disgust as he looked away. Severus glanced instead toward the others. Julliana and Delphina looked titillated by the question, their amusement confirming some of the suspicion in Snape's heart. Marcellus and Alrik looked amused as well. But it was Diana's reaction that worried him the most. She was looking at her husband and her other brothers suspiciously, her eyes somewhat confused by their amusement.

"Where is he?" Severus demanded, rising swiftly to his feet.

"Now, Severus," Marcellus laughed softly. "Let Julius have his fun. It's what he does. And I doubt Harry will mind."

Jealousy and rage flared through Severus, startling him with the intensity of it. Diana's too jumped to her feet, her confusion clearing immediately, anger replacing it. "The rose maze, Severus!" she shouted at him, her eyes a bit wild. "Don't blame Harry."

If she hadn't added that last warning, Severus would have been driven solely by anger to storm from the room. As it was, a spark of fear erupted inside of him. Don't blame Harry? For what? Her words implied that perhaps Harry would not be responsible for what ever was going on.

In no time at all he found himself outside, racing toward the entrance to the rose maze. As a child he'd learned the secrets of the maze, knew how to navigate its ever-changing paths and doorways; he even knew a shortcut to the center of the maze. But as he passed through the main entrance he realized that something had changed subtly. He felt the wards the moment he passed over them and pulled his wand immediately. A quick identification spell revealed the presence of compulsion charms woven directly into the scent of the flowers. Mingled amongst the compulsion charms were various love spells and aphrodisiacs -- not strong by his standards, but certainly enough to befuddle the average wizard or witch who might enter the maze.

Neither he nor Harry were average by any stretch of the imagination, but he found himself racing toward the center of the maze anyway, bypassing the majority of the corridors in favor of the short cut. His mind supplied him with a number of scenarios -- certainly his brothers and Diana expected him to find Harry in a compromising position with Julius. It hadn't escaped him that Julius found Harry attractive -- the man had barely taken his eyes off Harry all evening. But he suspected there was more than just brotherly collusion on the part of Claudius and Marcellus. Perhaps they believed that if they allowed Julius his seduction, Harry would be more amenable to their influence.

Rage flared through Severus again. If he found out they had done this for the sake of that stupid Manor, he'd burn the place to the ground and leave them all living on the street.

He turned the last corridor, and found himself up against an invisible barrier, one of the maze's many illusionary walls. Through it he could see the center courtyard, Harry already trapped inside with Julius.

Neither Harry nor Julius noticed him, but he knew from their side of the illusionary wall all they would see would be the impenetrable wall of roses. He glanced around the courtyard -- all the entrances were sealed as far as he could see. Julius, having entered the courtyard ahead of Severus, could take them all swiftly down by pressing a stone on the central gazebo. But Severus had no choice but to take them down the hard way. He raised his wand and began the counter spell to siphon off their power.

He could hear Julius speaking to Harry, and he found his brother's words only fueled his anger. He could also see Harry shaking his head slightly, a frown marring his forehead -- no doubt he was feeling the effects of the spells.

"I imagine Severus didn't wait long to get his hands on you," Julius was saying to Harry. "How you must have hated having that beast touch you." Severus found himself gritting his teeth in fury as Julius reached out to caress Harry. He smiled a moment later as Harry slapped his hand away, stepping back. He wondered if Julius could feel the spells on the maze flicker and waver as Harry shook off whatever influence they might have begun to gain on him.

"That's your brother you're talking about!" Harry's voice was filled with disbelief and indignation. It seemed the noble Gryffindor was going to stand up for his honor once again.

"Yes, he is my brother," Julius smiled. "Which puts me in a remarkable position to ease your suffering. No one would think twice about why you were spending so much time in the company of your brother-in-law. Such family ties are encouraged."

"You don't actually think I'd be interested in you, do you?" Harry demanded, backing away again as Julius advanced on him.

"Of course you're interested," Julius told him, and Severus felt his insides twisting again. "I've seen the way you look at me. I know you want me. Who wouldn't chose me over Severus?"

Severus didn't miss the color that washed over Harry's face, and he redoubled his efforts to pull down the barrier. He'd look the other way, he promised himself, when Harry fell in love with someone else -- but not this! Not his brother! That would be too cruel! He wished he could see Harry's eyes, but his head was turned away from him. Harry's eyes revealed far too many emotions, and Severus desperately wanted to know what the young man really felt for his beautiful brother.

"You don't know me," Harry said suddenly. "And you don't know your brother. I'm not interested. Goodbye!" And with that Harry turned toward Severus, taking a step toward the exit only to stop in shock when he realized it was gone. He could not, obviously, see Severus standing in the doorway attempting to pull down the magical barrier, but Severus could see him clearly enough -- could see the look of disgust in Harry's eyes, a look that went far to ease Severus' mind. That look was quickly replaced by alarm when Harry realized all his exits were gone.

"There is an exit," Julius told him, seeming to be highly amused by the situation. "But only if you know where to look. This is a maze after all. But the thorns on the vines are strong enough to rip the flesh from your bones if you make the slightest mistake. And I'm the only one who knows the secret of the maze, the only one who can lead you back out."

Idiot, Severus thought. Did he really think that no one else had solved this maze? Severus had figured out its secrets long before Julius had ever been born. He couldn't help wondering how many other young men and woman his brother might have led here, other wizards and witches who lacked the power to fight off the spells.

Harry had moved into the gazebo and Severus wondered if perhaps the boy might find the stone that released the wards on his own.

"Do you like the scent of the roses?" Julius asked then. "They're yet another legacy of my mother's. She used these very flowers in her potions. They're in my blood. Their scent has been known to drive men and woman mad with desire for me."

His words confirmed Severus suspicions that Julius had done this before. It also occurred to him that his brother believed Harry was more strongly affected by the spell than he appeared to be. But the flicker of irritation that flashed across Harry's face assured Severus that Julius was wrong.

"I told you, Julius, I'm not interested!" Harry growled.

"You seem to think I care," Julius laughed, his words alarming Severus. He watched in shock as his brother suddenly lunged at Harry, pinning him against one of the gazebo's pillars, obviously intending to take with force what Harry had denied him.

The barrier was nearly down, and Severus threw all his strength into the counter spell, desperate to get the barrier down and go to Harry's aid. He could feel it crumbling, could see Julius groping Harry, touching him, kissing him -- and then saw him stumble back in shock as Harry butted him hard in the head and pushed him away, a look of blackest rage on his face as he drew his wand, aimed it. That he did not hex Julius immediately surprised Severus -- but one look at Harry and he understood. Even from this distance, he could see that Harry was shaking, nearly blinded by anger. Any curse he might utter could very well kill Julius.

It was Julius who was in danger now, and Harry's sanity instead of his virtue at stake. The barrier fell at last and Severus stepped forward, knowing caution was required. Harry might very well let loose the curse if he startled him.

Julius, idiot that he was, apparently didn't realize his danger, and actually stepped toward Harry, a superior smile on his face. "Harry, you don't really think you can—"

"You know, Julius," Severus said quietly, keeping his voice low and controlled, a tone he generally reserved for controlling his Slytherins. Harry didn't move, his concentration never wavered. "You're staring down the end of a wand that has defeated Voldemort several times. Do you really think you should be doing anything other than begging for your life right now?"

His words had the intended effect. Julius froze, his smile fading as he seemed to realize for the first time just who exactly he had been attempting to hurt. There might be a thousand ridiculous rumors about the Boy Who Lived in the tabloids, but they didn't change the fact that this wizard regularly faced down armies of Death Eaters and won. Severus was relieved to see his brother take his warning seriously and back away, his skin losing what little color it had.

What alarmed Severus most, however, was the fact that Harry still had not moved, still had not lowered his wand or looked away from Julius' frightened face, almost as if he were unable to pull himself from his rage.

Severus approached him cautiously. "Harry," he said softly, moving to his side. Tentatively he reached toward him, gently closing his hand around Harry's wrist, slipping his other arm carefully around Harry's shoulders. He could feel the power vibrating through his body, making his muscles shake and tremble. "Harry," he said again. "It's okay, it's over. Let it go. You don't want to do this."

He pressed softly against his arm, then more firmly, lowering it slowly, until Harry's wand was pointed at the ground.

He felt Harry shudder, letting his trapped breath out in a soft moan even as Severus felt the power draining away as well. He closed his eyes, lashes dark against pale skin, as he leaned briefly against Severus' body. "You all right?" Severus asked quietly.

Harry nodded, opening his eyes at last and taking a step away. His features were composed again, but he looked far from all right, his eyes haunted.

"Give me a second, and I'll show you the way out," Severus told him, then turned swiftly toward his brother. Julius had not moved and was watching the two of them intently. Severus thought of a dozen good hexes, but in the end opted for a far more satisfying revenge. He drew his fist sharply back and punched his brother in the face as hard as he could. The blow sent Julius staggering back, and then to the ground. Severus was fairly certain he'd broken his jaw.

He caught a fist full of his brother's doublet, pulling him partially upright. "You ever come near him again," he whispered directly into Julius' ear, "and I'll kill you myself." He saw Julius' eyes widen in terror as Severus drew his wand. One quick flick of the wand and Severus hissed, "Castitas Obligatus Ultio." Then he dropped him unceremoniously onto the ground before returning to Harry's side. Harry had watched the whole exchange somewhat dispassionately. He said nothing as Severus turned him toward the exit and led him by the most direct route out of the maze.

The others were waiting on the patio for them. Diana raced toward them in concern when she saw them emerging from the maze. "Is he alright?" she asked, seeing the almost blank look on Harry's face.

"Fine," Severus growled, forcing his temper back for his sister's sake. She at least had no part of this, and looked horrified by the whole thing. "Julius seemed to forget who it was he was attacking." He turned to glare at Alrik, Claudius and Marcellus. "It was a mistake that could have very well cost him his life." The three men looked startled by this, looking at once from Harry to the maze.

Severus pulled the portkey coin from his pocket. He sent his most withering gaze toward his brothers. "I'll be back tomorrow," he told them, the threat of that implicit in his tone. "And if all the spells are not removed from that maze by then, I will burn it and Briarwood Hall to the ground!" The look of shock and horror on their faces was remarkably satisfying. Pity he was too angry to enjoy it.

He turned his attention to Diana once again. "Thank you," he whispered softly. She just nodded her head and gave him a sad smile.

With that Severus palmed the coin and grasped Harry's left hand, sandwiching the coin between them. The two of them were swiftly pulled back across the land toward the safety of Hogwarts.

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Author's Note: No, we haven't seen the last of Snape's family; one of them at least still has a major part to play in the future plot (not Julius oddly enough).

I thought I'd play around with the idea of beauty -- often in fan fiction Severus is suddenly and miraculously beautified which is what ultimately makes Harry fall in love with him. But the reality is that while Alan Rickman is lovely, Severus Snape is not. At the most he is dark and enigmatic -- distinguished even. But pretty, he will never be.

Thus enters Julius -- the perfect Snape Adonis. But when comparing his inner character to the real Severus Snape, there is no comparison. And it was important that Harry see that. He's become aware for the first time that men can be beautiful -- Harry's a bit behind his classmates on this subject. Severus was right about that -- sex hasn't even been a blip on his radar up to this point because of all the other things distracting him. Now at least he's become aware of an attraction to men on a purely physical level. And having seen it, he can now look at Snape in a new light. Sorry, the sex is still a long way off.

As for Snape -- the River Denial is rising if he really thinks he can stand aside and do nothing while Harry falls in love with someone else. It sound all virtuous and noble (and I think he really WANTS to mean it), but please! We all know Snape better than that, don't we?

Alas for Julius -- why does everyone forget that Harry is more than capable of defending himself?

But, my goodness! I do have some blood-thirsty readers! I enjoyed all your suggestions about what should happen to Julius -- I think the reviewer that suggested he prick his butt on a rose thorn and fall asleep for a hundred years was the most hilarious! Maybe I'll write a side story ... perhaps young Malfoy can wake him (wouldn't they be pretty together!).

As it is I had to curtail my own blood-thirsty nature (for those of you who still want some violence, there will plenty in future chapters to satisfy you). Rest assured Julius has been suitably dealt with -- I don't speak Latin (so forgive the grammar), but the best translation I can give you for the spell Severus cast on Julius was a 'chastity belt'. Needless to say Julius won't get the opportunity to do this again to anyone.


	19. Chapter 19 Bonds

Chapter 19 Bonds

Harry felt the familiar sensation of pulling and falling as the port key transported him back to Severus' rooms in the dungeon. He was only vaguely aware of being moved to the couch and pushed down onto the cushions. Bemused, he watched as the flames in the fireplace leaped into life, holding his attention completely. A few moments later he felt something cold being pushed into his hands.

"Drink that," Severus ordered. Harry raised his hands without thinking and drank down the contents in the glass Severus had give him. It reminded him faintly of the brandy he'd tasted earlier, but this had an almost soothing quality to it. He felt his body calming immediately, felt his mind coming back from the almost numb place he had sent it.

He shuddered, closing his eyes, feeling himself finally let go of what ever demon had gripped him earlier. "You're okay," Severus told him gently. "You're just in shock."

"I've been attacked before," he reminded the man. He knew shock -- he'd been in shock just last weekend when his body had been turned into a pin-cushion by Death Eaters. The difference this time was that he wasn't hurt. He couldn't quite figure out why he was reacting this way.

"Not sexually," Severus said simply.

Harry's eyes flew open as he sought out Severus' face. That was it of course. That was the difference. Julius' attack had not been like any of the others, and yet his callous disregard for Harry's feelings or freewill had been no different than the Death Eaters'. Feeling Julius' hands on his body had certainly not hurt the way the Cruciatus did, but the feeling of helpless rage had been the same. What was perhaps even more horrible was the power of his own anger -- he had wanted to kill him. Could so easily have killed him if Severus hadn't stopped him. He'd felt unable at the time to stop himself.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For stopping me."

Severus just nodded in understanding, some unreadable emotion flickering through his dark eyes. He was crouched in front of Harry where he sat on the couch, one hand resting lightly on Harry's knee as if to comfort him. He frowned suddenly, his gaze on Harry's forehead.

"Here, let me see if I can fix that," he said softly, lifting his hand to gently push Harry's bangs back from his face. Surprisingly, Harry felt no desire to flinch from his touch. He was aware of the fact that his head was pounding fiercely, and the Potions Master's fingers felt cool and soothing on his skin as they gently brushed against the bruise he'd given himself when he'd slammed his head into Julius'. He closed his eyes again, savoring the unexpected comfort.

Severus drew his wand, quietly uttering a simple healing charm. Harry felt the pain diminish as the bruise faded. The cool fingers lingered briefly, and then were gone. Harry opened his eyes, watching as Severus moved to a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry about tonight," the man told him regretfully, and looked genuinely distressed.

"It wasn't your fault," Harry assured him.

"He's my brother," Severus said with an angry shake of his head.

"Am I to blame for the Dursleys' behavior?"

Severus looked quickly up. "Of course not!"

"Then how can you be blamed for Julius' behavior?" Harry asked him. "You don't even really know him."

"I should never have brought you there," Severus replied. "You should never have been put in a situation like that."

"You wanted to see your sister," Harry reminded him. "I don't blame you. She's worth knowing. I liked her."

Severus smiled bitterly. "It's a pity about the rest of them." He looked up, catching Harry's gaze with his own. Harry had seen a lot of different emotions on Severus' face over the years, mostly negative ones like anger and irritation. He never thought he would one day see gratitude; it was strangely humbling.

"Thank you for what you said tonight," the man said quietly, and Harry knew he was referring to his defense of him at dinner.

Harry blushed uncomfortably, emotions gripping him that he couldn't quite define. "Look, I know you and I have never gotten along very well," Harry began. "Or at all," he corrected himself. "Mostly because. . .well, you've never been very nice . . ." Severus snorted in amusement at that and Harry found himself smiling. "But, regardless, I am aware of everything you've done for me. I know you've saved my life repeatedly. And I know the risks you've taken spying on Voldemort. And I've always respected you for that. . .even if I never said it."

Harry flushed again, feeling strangely vulnerable under Severus' intense stare. "And I know you could have said no when this whole marriage thing happened," he continued. "And despite everything, you've been real decent to me, and I didn't expect that."

"Because of who I am?" Severus asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

"Yes," Harry admitted, and endured Severus smirk of acknowledgement at the half-hearted slight. "But also because, I guess a part of me doesn't really expect anyone to be decent to me." He knew he was admitting far more than he intended to with that statement, and he found it odd that out of all the people in his life, Severus Snape seemed to be the one he opened up to the most.

"I know the feeling," Severus said, almost so softly Harry barely heard him. And that was the last thing he'd expect, that Severus would so willingly admit such a thing to him, willingly show him a vulnerability.

The tension was nearly too much for him; for both of them he suspected. He stood quickly, moving toward the fire. "Oh, God, don't tell me were having a bonding moment here," Harry joked weakly. "Call the newspaper. Harry Potter and Severus Snape have something in common."

"Merlin forbid!" Severus agreed with a nervous laugh. They fell silent for a long moment, Harry staring into the dancing fire. He could feel Severus' potion inside him, calming his nerves, which he suspected would be completely fried otherwise.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Severus asked after a while, and Harry knew what he was referring to.

"Yes," he assured him. "I'm fine." He smiled wryly at the man. "Though I must admit, I suddenly understand why the witch gave Snow White that poisoned apple."

Severus laughed openly at that, leaning back in his chair. "Gods, isn't that the most ridiculous story you've ever heard?"

"Pretty ridiculous," Harry agreed with a nod. He studied Severus' face. He would never be a match for Julius' beauty, but there was nothing wrong with his features. And Harry really did like what ever it was he'd done to his hair. It had long ago come free of the ribbon he'd tied it back with and hung freely about his face, soft and wild looking. And when the man laughed, he seemed almost like a different person. "Would you really burn down the maze?" he asked.

Severus' eyes hardened. "Yes," he stated emphatically. "I can't help wondering who else Julius has done that to. He seems to think his looks excuse his behavior. And my other brothers are just as culpable. They knew what Julius was doing. I won't let that go unpunished either."

Harry couldn't help thinking about the things Julius had accused Severus of doing. Minister Fudge had believed the same thing of the Potion Master. Even Sirius had expressed concern that Severus might try to force Harry into something he didn't want. He wondered if anyone truly knew the man at all. Albus Dumbledore maybe -- he had trusted Severus implicitly right from the start.

"Well, as long as I don't have to see him again," Harry said with a shudder.

Severus looked up quickly. "You won't. I promise."

Harry nodded in acceptance, feeling the events catching up to him. He fought back a yawn, and was thankful he didn't have anywhere important to be the following morning. "On that note, I think I'll go to bed. Good night, Severus." He caught himself as he headed toward the bedroom, realizing what he'd just said, how naturally the name had come to him when earlier it had sounded so foreign on his tongue. He glanced back at Severus, noticing he was watching him intently. "Do you mind?" he asked softly. "Me calling you that, I mean?"

"I don't mind," he assured him, a faint smile on his lips. "Good night, Harry."

Harry smiled and shut the bedroom door behind him.

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The absence of soft breathing beside him woke Severus from a sound slumber that night. Turning quickly in bed he confirmed that Harry's side was empty. A quick glance at the Wizarding clock on his night stand showed that the hand pointed to 'middle of the night' still several hours from 'time to get up'.

Alarmed, Severus climbed out of bed, swiftly glancing around the room for the missing boy. "Harry?" he called softly, looking through the open bathroom door. The room was also empty.

Moving swiftly through the bedroom door, Severus looked first in the common room, then moved on to the office. Next he pushed open the door to the library and found Harry kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room.

"Harry?" he asked, approaching him cautiously. Harry, still dressed in his pajamas, had his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face, a look of horror in his eyes. Most alarming, the lightning shaped scar on his forehead was inflamed and red, standing out against his pale skin.

"Harry?" Severus asked softly, reaching out to touch one of his hands. The boy's skin was ice cold. "Harry, what's wrong? What happened?" He suspected that in all the excitement of the evening, he had forgotten to take his dreamless sleep potion. But that did not explain the swollen scar.

When Harry did not respond immediately, Severus touched his face, turning him toward him so that he could see the boy's eyes. "Harry, answer me," he all but pleaded, trying not to sound too harsh but growing more alarmed by the moment. "What's wrong?"

"Something's changed," Harry whispered his voice strangely hoarse. "Something's different."

Not a nightmare then, Severus guessed. Albus had told him that from time to time Harry had visions rather than simple dreams. Something about his scar connected him to the Dark Lord, enabling him to see glimpses into that evil mind. "What's different?" he asked. He himself could feel nothing coming from the mark on his arm. Albus' wards protected him from the Dark Lord's anger, but he still should have felt something. A twinge or a flash of pain -- something.

"Severus," Harry whispered, and there was something terrible in his voice, as if he had discovered some dreadful secret he was afraid to utter. "He's happy, Severus. He's pleased."

Severus frowned. There was no doubt in his mind which 'he' Harry was referring to -- but Albus had insisted that it was only the Dark Lord's anger and rage that effected Harry. Why would he be so upset by the fact that the Dark Lord was pleased -- though that in itself seemed very unlikely. Lord Voldemort had suffered a terrible set back when this boy had stolen the Eye of Odin from him months earlier -- since then they'd heard little from him. And certainly he would not be pleased by the fact that just over a week ago he'd lost several of his Death Eaters when they'd tried once again to kill Harry Potter. How could he possible be happy about anything?

But what ever it was the boy imagined he'd seen, or dreamed, his fear was real. Severus could see him trembling, his whole body shaking as he held himself together through sheer will alone. He found himself desperately wanting to pull the boy into his arms, comfort him with his nearness. But somehow he doubted his touch would have the effect he was hoping for, especially not in light of his brother's behavior earlier that night.

But he couldn't just sit here and do nothing either, couldn't just sit here and watch as the boy fell apart in front of his eyes. Harry had his eyes squeezed shut again and was rocking once more, as if trying to comfort himself. He wondered if anyone had ever taken him into their arms after one of his nightmares -- certainly he'd never received the comfort a child needed from the Dursley. He had a sudden vision of the boy as a small child, locked in a dark cupboard while crying for someone, anyone, to comfort him.

But if he could not offer the comfort the boy needed, he knew someone who could.

He rose swiftly and moved back toward his common room. Throwing floo powder into his fire, he stated, "Remus Lupin's room," and then stuck his head through the flames. Instantly he found himself looking into a well-appointed Hogwarts guest room from the point of view of the fireplace. There was a couch only a few feet from him and lying on the couch sound asleep was a large black dog.

"Black!" Severus hissed. "Wake up!" The sound woke the dog instantly, as well as causing a gasp of alarm from one of the side rooms. Remus Lupin emerged almost immediately through one of the doors, suggesting to Severus that he had not been asleep despite the pajamas he was clad in. The dog, seeing Severus' head in the fire, instantly transformed into the familiar form of Sirius Black.

"What is it? What's wrong, Severus?" Remus asked in alarm.

"Come through to my room, " Severus ordered. "The boy needs you."

He pulled back immediately and stood out of the way of the fire. A moment later the flames flashed bright green and Sirius Black stepped through them, followed immediately by Remus Lupin. Severus pointed toward the library door. "In there," he ordered.

Hostilities aside, Sirius rushed immediately toward the library, followed more sedately by Severus and Remus. When Severus reached the library door he saw Black already sitting on the floor beside Harry, holding the shaking boy in his arms. Harry was clinging to him, face buried against his neck as Black gently rubbed his back and stroked his hair, whispering softly to him. A strange mixture of both relief and jealousy flared through Severus's heart. He knew of course that Black could offer Harry the comfort he needed, but he wished it could be him. No doubt the boy had turned to him the moment Black had said his name, no doubt he'd thrown himself into Sirius' arms. That would never happen to him.

"What happened?" Remus asked quietly, drawing Severus aside with a gentle touch to his arm. Severus allowed himself to be pulled away, unaware of the look of longing in his eyes as he glanced back over his shoulder at the two men in his library. "Severus?" Lupin's voice was gentle, the look in his eyes strangely sympathetic and Severus found himself flushing uncomfortably.

"Dream," he explained. "Or a vision. Something about the Dark Lord. I found him like that a few moments ago."

"Let Sirius talk to him for a bit," Remus said. "He'll calm him down -- he's good at that."

Severus frowned, realizing then that there had been a full moon the night before. No doubt Sirius had done his best to comfort Lupin after his transformation -- though he had noticed the mutt was still sleeping on the couch. A quick glace at Lupin showed dark shadows beneath his eyes, exhaustion in his face. With a sigh, Severus sank down on his couch, suspecting that this was going to be a long night.

It was nearly a quarter of an hour later before Black emerged from the library, Harry stumbling along beside him nearly asleep on his feet. Black still had his arms around the boy, seeming to be holding him up as he walked across the room toward the bedroom. Severus and Lupin both jumped to their feet and followed Sirius as he led Harry back to bed. While Black helped the boy back to bed, Severus moved toward his nightstand and found the bottle of dreamless sleep draught he'd made for Harry. Black said nothing as Severus urged Harry to drink a small dose. A few moments later Harry was fast asleep and the three men moved back out into the living room so that they would not disturb him further.

"Is he alright?" Remus asked Sirius anxiously.

Black ran his hands through his hair, looking somewhat ragged and on edge. "I don't know -- I've never seen him like that. He's had nightmares before, but this was different. What the hell happened?" He glared at Snape as if it were all his fault.

Snape just shook his head. "I'm aware of his nightmares -- but this wasn't like that. He didn't make a sound -- I woke up and he was gone. I found him in the library just like you saw him. He said something had happened -- something had changed. That the Dark Lord was happy or pleased about something."

Sirius nodded his head. "He said something like that to me too -- but why would that frighten him so much?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Remus replied and both Severus and Sirius stared at him in surprise. "Think about it," Remus urged. "What would possible make the Dark Lord happy? He becomes enraged and angry when things don't go his way or when his plans are thwarted. For him to be happy something terrible must have happened -- something good for him and bad for us."

It made sense, much to Severus dismay. "I didn't think Harry's visions worked that way," he said, and if the other two men found his use of Harry's first name odd they said nothing. "I though he only had visions when the Dark Lord was so enraged he let something slip. Why would positive emotions leak across the bond between them?"

"Maybe he wants Harry to know this time," Remus guessed. "Maybe what ever happened is something he wants us to find out about. Or something he expects us to find out about -- or worry about."

"Then you're suggesting he's taunting Harry," Sirius asked, his voice dropping into a low growl at the thought.

"It wouldn't be the first time he's taunted us," Remus replied. "Albus should be informed in any event."

"I'll take Harry up to see him in the morning," Severus agreed. "After he's gotten some sleep -- he's had a long night."

Black frowned at that. "Did something happen at your dinner?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably. He had intended to let Harry tell Black about the incident with his brother, but it occurred to him then that Harry probably wouldn't say anything. Harry was remarkably good at keeping such things to himself even though he ought to talk about them with someone he trusts.

"My youngest brother, Julius, attempted to assault Harry earlier," Severus confessed.

"What?" Black hissed, eyes widening in anger. "Assault?"

"Sexually," Severus confirmed. "Harry pulled his wand before it could go very far, but it shook him up."

He could see rage burning in both Lupin's and Black's eyes. "God damn it, Snape!" Sirius growled, his fists clenching. "I'll kill the bastard!"

"I took care of it, Black!" Severus informed him. "Harry's fine -- and Julius has been dealt with. I intended to return tomorrow and see that he's not given another opportunity. Julius will spend the rest of his life on a very tight leash."

"There shouldn't have been a first opportunity," Black insisted. "How could you let this happen? You swore to protect him!"

"I did protect him," Severus insisted, though he found it hard to defend himself when he already felt guilty for what happened. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't," Sirius glared. "He's not leaving this castle again unless someone besides you is with him."

Black word filled Severus with rage and he found himself standing face to face with his nemesis, glaring daggers at the man. "Are you suggesting I can't protect my own bond-mate!"

"He's not yours!" Sirius hissed.

"He is mine!" Severus snarled back just as furiously, a wave of possessive jealousy flaring through him. A second later both men were pushed away from one another by an angry werewolf. The hard shove that came from Remus Lupin's hands sent both Sirius and Severus sprawling to the floor as they were reminded first hand just how strong a werewolf even in human form could be.

"That's enough," Remus glared at them, his amber eyes burning almost ferally in the firelight. "You'll wake Harry if you don't shut up." Both men calmed almost immediately at that threat.

"Moony," Sirius all but whined. "He's. . ."

"Stop it right now, Padfoot," Remus snapped. "He said Harry was fine and I believe him. Insults are not going to help anyone right now. I for one am grateful that he had the compassion to call you to be here for Harry tonight despite your lack of manners. Perhaps next time he will not be so quick to summon you."

His words had the desired affect as Sirius immediately stopped what ever it was he was going to say. Both men cautiously got to their feet, Severus giving the werewolf a wary glance. Remus Lupin always seemed so mild mannered; he'd forgotten that even in human form the man possessed a monster's strength.

"Thank you for calling us," Remus said to Severus. "We'll return in the morning to speak with Harry if that's all right with you?"

Severus nodded his head, choosing to remain silent in face of this oddly intimidating werewolf. Remus nodded in satisfaction, then caught Sirius's arm and moved him toward the fireplace and the floo powder. When Sirius looked like he was about to protest, Remus just glared, silencing him again. A few moments later they were both gone and the fire died down once more.

Worn out, Severus returned to his bedroom. He climbed carefully into bed beside the sleeping young man, moving slowly so as not to disturb him. Assured that Harry was sound asleep, he reached out and gently stroked his hair back from his face, running his fingers lightly over the still inflamed scar. The boy sighed softly, but did not wake. "I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered softly, regretfully. Then against his better judgment he bent down and pressed a kiss onto his pale forehead. He found the warm rich scent rising off the boy's skin both soothing and intoxicating all at once.

God, he thought to himself, how easy it would be to forget himself around this beautiful young man. How easy it would be to be the monster everyone, including his own brother, had accused him of being and claim what was his by right of marriage. He suspected that under the right circumstances, he might even be able to make the boy accept it -- accept his touch. God knows he knew how to manipulate people, and the boy, hungry as he was for affection, would be little match for him. Legilimency alone would give him just enough of a glimpse in the young man's mind that he could figure out exactly which buttons to push without too much difficulty.

But it wouldn't be right. He's sworn to protect him -- even from himself if it came to that. And for some reason, he'd come to the conclusion that though the boy did not like him all that much, he did appear at least to trust him. And nothing in the world would make Severus violate that trust. Not even his own desires.

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Author's Notes: As some of you know from reading my notes and bio I have a large portion of this story written, and what you have been getting these last few weeks are the edited and cleaned up chapters. I'm also continuing writing the new stuff while editing this old stuff -- though I should warn you there will come a time when I catch up with myself and then my posts won't be as frequent. But I thought I'd share some of the odd transformations this story has under gone with those of you who are interested.

When I first started this story after reading book 4 it was literally nothing more than my attempt at the cliche -- Harry is forced to marry Snape. Chapter 1 required a backstory of what might have happened in Harry's 5th year, and the Eye of Odin was introduced -- but I didn't think much on that. Obviously the Marriage Stone immediately made an appearance and at that point I was thinking, huh, that could be cool to play around with. But still we were dealing with nothing more than a bonding story -- all I really knew at that point was that I didn't want the two of them to just jump into bed with each other. I wanted to deal with the long process of them getting to know each other.

The scene of their very first night when Harry saw Snape's scars and tattoo gave birth to the Wizarding Culture as it exists in this story -- and instantly the story changed. Now it was a bonding story with a developed world.

Then Harry was attacked in Hogsmeade and I introduced the King's Voice -- at that point the story took a dramatic turn in a totally different direction. I suddenly saw a plot that I hadn't expected and I really started to get into the story (that plot really hasn't played out yet, but we'll get there eventually).

Snape's family was pretty much a side story that I thought would be amusing -- up until the point I wrote this chapter here. Oddly enough, that scene with Harry kneeling in the library, terrified about a vision where Voldemort is happy, marks the point where the entire story suddenly laid itself out for me with startling clarity. It seems like such a little thing -- and really this chapter was supposed to be about the conversation between Harry and Snape and their bonding moment. But when I wrote the library scene, that's when I saw where this story was going -- and it ceased being a cliche. The best part about it -- when I looked back at everything I had written prior to this point -- all the pieces were already laying there in the previous chapters just waiting for me to pick them up.

I doubt you'll notice just yet where this is all going, but it certainly has been a blast to write. And your reviews, comments and emails have only encouraged me all the more to continue on with the story regardless of how crazy it might become.


	20. Chapter 20 Sinistra

Chapter 20 - Sinistra

Harry found himself sitting with Sirius and Remus late the following morning. After he had awakened, Severus had taken him up to see the Headmaster where he'd relayed as much of his dream to both men as he could remember. Truthfully he wasn't sure what exactly his dream had been about -- only that he knew that something had changed. The Dark Lord had discovered something -- a spell, a weapon or a ritual -- something which had filled him with such horrible delight that the sheer power of the emotion had woken Harry from sleep. What ever it was, he knew it was something terrible -- knew it was something utterly unexpected.

To him it felt as if Voldemort had been handed the world and knew suddenly, utterly, completely, that nothing was going to be able to stop him. Harry had never felt so alone in his life -- as if he were completely isolated or cut off from everyone -- as if he were suddenly the last man left on earth and had no one to turn to. But when he'd tried to convey the dream to the Headmaster and Professor Snape, it had sounded oddly hollow and somewhat silly in the light of morning.

Later, Severus had walked him down to Remus Lupin's room and bid him good-bye -- explaining that he intended to return to Briarwood Hall to make certain the spells had been removed from the Rose Maze.

After he relayed his dream a second time to his worried godfather, Remus and Sirius had both questioned him intently about his evening with the Snapes. Judging by their questions, he suspected that they both knew about his run-in with Julius. He told them what happened as calmly as possible and then described in great detail the single punch from Severus that had broken Julius' jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground. Though he hadn't recognized the spell Severus had cast on his brother, he remembered the words and repeated them back to the two men. For some reason this sent Sirius into gales of laughter.

Bewildered, Harry turned to Remus for an answer. The werewolf just smirked at him. "It's the equivalent of a magical chastity belt, Harry," he explained. "The spell not only prevents any sort of physical arousal in the victim but also causes intense pain and cramps if he so much as thinks about anything of a carnal nature."

The spell, surprisingly, seemed to put both of the men somewhat at ease, and Harry suspected that he was right to guess that Sirius wanted to know that Snape had in fact defended his honor. Feeling the need to defend Snape further, he recounted the conflict between Snape and Draco Malfoy that happened the day after they were married -- that story was still a favorite in Gryffindor Tower.

He ended up spending the day with the two men, returning finally to join his friends in the Great Hall for dinner. There he was forced once again to recount his evening with the Snapes to his fellow Gryffindors. He spent most of the discussion describing Snape's sister, glossing over the other brothers and saying nothing about what had happened with Julius. All of the Gryffindors seemed delighted with the story about Harry's poor table manners, unable to get over the fact that Snape had in fact encouraged such behavior. Time and time again they found themselves throwing somewhat disbelieving looks toward the head table and the glaring Potions Master sitting there.

"Is it just me, or does Snape look different?" Dean Thomas finally asked after about the seventh time he'd turned to look over his shoulder at the professor. The others all turned to look again as well.

"Now that you mention it, he does look different," Seamus agreed.

Ron was frowning thoughtfully. "Is his nose smaller or something?"

His words brought snickers of laughter from everyone but Harry who found himself wanting to defend the man again. A quick glance at the professor assured him that he had not noticed the exchange -- he also noticed that just like last night Severus's hair was soft and flowing, no longer weighted down with the hair tonic he normally slicked it back with. He felt something warm glowing inside him at the thought that Snape might have altered his hairstyle simply because Harry had said he liked it.

"I think he looks rather nice," Hermione admitted suddenly. The boys at the table turned to look at her in shock, Ron particularly.

"I do too," Ginny agreed, earning equal looks of surprise. "There's something different about him. He looks good."

Despite everything, Harry found himself grinning at her words. Ron glared at him. "What are you smiling about Harry?"

"Nothing, Ron," Harry just laughed, wondering what they would do if he described Julius Snape to them in detail. "Nothing at all."

Quidditch began the following Monday after Harry's dinner with the Snapes. Three nights a week he was busy with his team, though he was not able to fully shake off the lingering effects of the dream. Worried about what might be coming, he talked Ron and Hermione into beginning their private study sessions again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most evenings they hung out in a corner of the library since both Remus and Sirius had been sent out on missions for Dumbledore. When they needed to practice the new spells they were learning, they snuck into the Room of Requirement.

Typically when Harry returned to his room, Severus was still awake, working on his lesson plans or grading papers in the common room. He never said anything, no matter how late Harry returned, though it was obviously he was biting his tongue not to take points for the lateness. When he did ask questions it was usually just to confirm if he had been with Hermione and Ron. He'd been somewhat hesitant to answer at first, thinking that while Severus was not going to take points from his bond-mate, he would make up for it by punishing Ron and Hermione. But he took a chance and told him the truth anyway, surprised to see a look of relief on the man's face that he couldn't quite explain. No further action was taken.

Oddly enough, Severus wasn't the only teacher acting somewhat out of character. Harry noticed that Professor Sonara Sinistra had taken a sudden interest in him, despite the fact that he did not take any classes from her. Hermione had her for Astronomy, but Harry really only knew her by name. Oddly enough she began stopping him in the halls to greet him, asking him how his classes were going, telling him that she was looking forward to seeing his first Quidditch match. Despite the fact that she was a Slytherin, she claimed to be a fan of his flying. All in all Harry found the behavior somewhat bewildering -- particularly when she stopped him one day in October and asked him if he'd be willing to help her unpack some new supplies over the weekend. Uncertain if he was being given a detention, or simply being asked for a favor, Harry hesitated to answer.

She smiled at him, and Harry was stuck by the sheer beauty of the woman. It wasn't often he'd been subjected to such an intense gaze from a woman so beautiful. "It will only take about an hour," she assured him. "Perhaps you can come by Saturday evening after your Quidditch practice."

"I guess, ma'am," he agreed awkwardly, a bit surprised when her eyes lit up.

"Great! I'll see you then," she replied, then hurried off down the hall, leaving Harry watching her somewhat bemusedly. He told Ron and Hermione about the odd encounter later that evening during their latest study session.

Hermione was instantly suspicious since she knew Harry did not have any classes with the woman. Ron on the other hand began snickering quietly in amusement, much to the bewilderment of his two friends.

"I'm just saying it's a bit weird that she would ask you for help," Hermione was saying. "Why not ask one of her own students, or someone from Slytherin house for help if she needs it?" She glared at Ron who was still snickering.

"That's what I thought," Harry agreed. "She's been talking to me a lot lately -- stopping me in the halls to say hello. I've never had a class with her." If anything his words just made Ron laugh all the louder, earning more glares from his two friends.

"You don't suppose this has anything to do with You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "She's been teaching here for several years and no one has ever even hinted that she or her family supports Voldemort."

Despite the use of the Dark Lord's name, Ron just began laughing harder until finally both Harry and Hermione couldn't take it any more and they both hit him, all be not hard.

"What is wrong with you?" Hermione demanded. "If you know what is going on with Professor Sinistra, then just tell us. Quite laughing like a fool."

"It's just too funny!" Ron grinned. "Me knowing something that the two of you can't figure out for once."

"No big deal there as far as I'm concerned," Harry grumbled.

"You don't have any classes with her either," Hermione reminded him. "How could you know what she's up to when I don't?"

"Because Professor Sinistra is one of Hogwart's best kept secrets -- or not so secret if you're a guy with five older brothers."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked in confusion wondering if this had something to do with Ron's family.

Ron just grinned. "She likes younger men, Harry. The younger the better."

"Likes?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Likes . . . a lot. . . If you know what I mean."

Harry felt his face turning bright red as he caught on quickly to Ron's meaning.

Hermione on the other hand looked outraged. "That's just ridiculous, Ron. Harry's a student. Surely you're not saying she's suggesting something . . . illicit?"

"Illicit," Ron smirked. "I like that word. Yeah, that's exactly what I'm suggesting. It's a well know fact that she waits until graduation and then hooks up with one of the young men from the graduating class -- according to the twins, she does it every year." He leaned over to Harry and nudged him with his elbow. "According to what I hear if she shows an interest in you, it's like a sure thing, mate."

Both Harry and Hermione figured out immediately what Ron meant by 'it'. Hermione glared while Harry just blushed harder. "Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I'm just telling you what I heard," Ron defended himself when he realized that Hermione was more than just shocked -- she looked down right mad.

"You heard this from one of the twins?" Harry asked.

Ron smirked again. "Not that they know first hand mind you," he explained. "She choose someone from Ravenclaw last year apparently. But we've all suspected that Bill knows more than he's letting on."

"You are making her sound like some sort of slut," Hermione grumbled.

Oddly enough Ron pinked up at that -- staring at Hermione in surprise. "Hermione!" he sputtered in shock. "I can't believe you used that word!"

Both Harry and Hermione glanced at each other in confusion, wondering which word Ron was objecting to. "Huh?"

""Slut?" Hermione asked, blinking her eyes in confusion.

Again, Ron flushed. "Hermione! Call her a 'scarlet woman', but don't use such a crude term."

Hermione frowned. "You're joking about a woman seducing younger men into her bed the moment they graduate from school, and you're offended by the word I used to describe her? That makes no sense."

"Well I didn't say I condoned the behavior!" Ron exclaimed, though he nudged Harry again with his elbow. "Though you're going to be the talk of Gryffindor tower when I tell the guys, Harry."

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed in horror. "Besides, I'm only a sixth year -- I'm not graduating yet. Not to mention the little fact that you've forgotten -- I'm married. Even if she is the way you say, it doesn't explain her sudden interest in me."

"Oh, yeah," Ron frowned. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Exactly," Hermione huffed. "Obviously something else is going on besides your puerile fantasy about Professor Sinistra. I find it hard to believe that a woman as intelligent as Professor Sinistra would engage in such unseemly behavior. It has to be something else."

"Maybe," Ron shrugged. "But even still -- I still think she's interested in Harry."

"Well, regardless, I think you should tell Professor Snape," Hermione decided. "Maybe it is something completely harmless, but it sounds odd either way. If it's harmless then telling Snape won't affect anything. If it's what Ron thinks it is, then you have a duty to tell Snape. And if it's something related to You-Know-Who, then Snape needs to know to protect you."

"It's probably nothing," Harry replied, suddenly wishing he had never brought the subject up in the first place.

"Tell him anyway," Hermione insisted.

Harry frowned, but agreed at last that Hermione was probably right.

Later that evening when he returned to his room, he watched Severus somewhat awkwardly for a few moments before he finally broached the subject. Severus was grading papers once again in front of the fire, though he looked up when Harry called his name.

"Um, Professor Sinistra asked me to help her with something on Saturday," he muttered, find his face flushing despite everything.

Snape grew suddenly tense, an odd expression crossing his face that Harry couldn't quite interpret. "Did she now?" he asked, his voice mild enough but somehow strained.

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "She's been . . . talking to me a lot lately and this afternoon she asked me to help her unpack something for her."

"Unpack," Severus repeated. He stared intently at Harry for a long moment as if trying to read his mind. Knowing that the man was a skilled Legilimancer, Harry looked away, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You do understand what it is she's asking, don't you?" Severus finally stated, his voice oddly flat.

Harry's looked up in shock, hearing more in that statement than he expecting to hear. "You mean Ron was right about her?" he exclaimed, his voice breaking with an embarrassing squeak.

Severus frowned. "You didn't know?" he confirmed.

Harry flushed again. "Ron said something about her, but I didn't think. . ."

There was a cold, tight look to Severus' face that had not been there in a long time. "She's asking you down to her room on Saturday to have sex with her."

There was something oddly final about the way he said that, as if his words made it an irrefutable fact. Behind the wave of embarrassment that washed over Harry, he also felt sick to his stomach.

"But I'm a student," he protested. "And I'm . . ." He felt himself unable to finish the statement, not with Snape staring at him like that, those dark eyes of his glittering dangerously.

"You're what?" Severus demanded.

"Married," Harry finished weakly.

Severus said nothing for a long moment, staring at him intently. Finally he shifted in his seat and sighed, breaking the intense stare he'd subjected Harry to. "Harry," he began, and finally some of the coldness was gone from his tone. "It is precisely because you are married that she has approached you. I take it from some of the things you said when we were first married that a marriage such as ours would not have been acceptable in the Muggle world?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir," he agreed quickly. "Its very unusual for Muggles to get married before the age of eighteen to begin with -- and usually much later than that. And a teacher would be arrested if it were discovered he or she was involved with a student." He didn't bother explaining that same sex marriages were also not allowed -- since the Wizarding World had trouble enough with so many different species, he supposed gender was an odd thing to quibble over.

"I see," Snape sighed. "A teacher is not allow to get involved with a student in our world either, Harry. "

"What?" Harry demanded. "But nobody said anything when we . . ."

"That's because we were not 'involved'," Snape clarified. "We were betrothed by the Marriage Stone and married by a highly respected elder. There was nothing scandalous about our union."

If Harry lived to be as old as Dumbledore he doubted he'd understand the different customs that ruled the Wizarding World. They never ceased to surprise him.

"Then why is Professor Sinistra suggesting that I . . . you know . . .I'm still a student."

"You're a married student, Harry," Severus explained. "Consequently you are considered a full adult in our world. You no longer have the same restrictions on you that other students do."

"But I'm married!" Harry protested, wondering why Severus was failing to see what he was trying to point out -- if anything that made him even more off limits.

"Yes," Severus agreed. "You're married -- in an arranged bond marriage. One, she's guessed you have no emotional commitment to. It is not unusual for two people in an arranged marriage to keep lovers on the side provided they are discreet about it in public. In Sinistra's case, you are an ideal match for her since she knows you won't allow yourself to become too emotionally attached knowing that nothing can ever come of your union."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "But that's . . . . that's. . .that's. . " he found himself sputtering in disbelief.

Severus' eyes narrowed. "That's what, Harry?"

"Disgusting!" Harry shrieked leaping to his feet, his entire body vibrating with an unnamed energy.

Something hard glittered in Snape's eyes. "Disgusting," he repeated.

Harry was suddenly furious. "It's not right!" he clarified, wanting to throttle the man. "It's wrong! It's . . . this whole thing is just wrong!"

"Am I to take it by this display that you're not interested in Professor Sinistra's proposal?"

"Of course I'm not interested!" Harry cried, growing angrier by the second, though if someone had asked him at that moment precisely what he was angry about he would not have been able to tell them. As it was he was only vaguely aware of the fact that his anger was beginning to cause the furniture in the room to shake with an unseen force.

"Calm down, Harry!" Severus ordered.

"No!" Harry yelled at him feeling a great deal of the rage directing itself at this man he'd been forced to marry. "I won't calm down! I won't!" And with that he ran across the room and toward the library, slamming the door behind him in a desperate attempt to be alone. As had happened before, his rage knocked book after book off the shelves. They thumped to the ground with a loud and somewhat satisfying bang. Wisely, Severus did not try to follow him.

It took a lot longer for him to calm down this time and when he did he found himself sitting in the middle of the library floor once again feeling drained as he tried to figure out what that sudden burst of violent emotion was all about. He knew in part he was angry at Sinistra -- much the same way he he'd been angry at Julius Snape. While she had made no move to force him into anything, she had assumed a familiarity and an intimacy with him that was unwarranted and unwelcome. In her case she'd apparently gone after him first because he was married, and second because he was young. That was just as bad as chasing him because he was the stupid Boy Who Lived. Actually in some ways it was worse since it implied a certain degree of perversion that the Muggle side of him didn't care to think about.

He also found himself surprisingly angry with Severus. He had never wanted to marry the man in the first place -- he'd been forced into this situation. And though his Aunt and Uncle had never attempted to instill any sort of religious beliefs in him, he still had certain core beliefs that had warred violently with the conversation they had just had. The fact that their marriage was allowed to happen in the first place was a bit of a shocker -- but okay, he could get his mind around the fact that the Wizarding World allowed unions he'd never imagined one way or another. And he could even get his mind around the fact that for some reason the Wizarding World had no problem with a sixteen-year-old boy marrying a thirty-six-year-old man. If he removed certain factors from the equation it was bizarrely old-fashioned -- like something out of a Regency novel that dealt with manners and betrothals and inheritance contracts.

But when Harry thought of marriage, he thought of his parents, James and Lily Potter, who had loved him enough to die for him. He though of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were just about the warmest, kindest couple he'd ever met in his life, so devoted to each other and their family. When he thought of marriage he thought, oddly enough, of Ron and Hermione and how he knew, just KNEW, that one day they would be married, and Harry would stand up beside his best friend while they watched Hermione walk down the aisle. And now that he'd seen the bond between them, marriage was about Sirius Black convincing Remus Lupin that his eye was not going to stray, that his devotion was true, and that his heart belonged forever in one man's keeping.

Marriage was not about being discrete in public as you kept a lover on the side.

But apparently it was for him and Snape. And truthfully, he ought to be grateful -- grateful that despite being forced into a marriage at sixteen years of age no one expected him to remain completely alone his entire life. That apparently someone had written in a loop hole for him that allowed him to still fall in love with someone -- just so long as he came home to his bond-mate at the end of the day. The thought twisted his gut as he tried to shove all that anger back down deep inside where he wouldn't have to look too closely at it.

Sighing bitterly, he got to his feet and began picking up the books he'd knocked over. He supposed he ought to be thankful that he'd run into the library instead of Snape's potions lab. His bouts of accidental magic were a bit destructive. Not to mention a bit odd -- very few of the other students had such outbursts no matter how angry they became. All of them did accidental magic as small children, but they apparently all out grew it by the time they got their first wands. Harry supposed he was just a slow learner.

Or maybe it had something to do with the bizarre link he had to Voldemort. Maybe he was prone to such outbursts because of the scar on his forehead.

He paused in the middle of picking up one of the books, a memory suddenly returning with startling clarity. Books! In his dream that night he'd forgotten to take his potion -- in that dream Voldemort had been looking through some old books. He could see them now, dark, cracked leather, covered in strange twisting writing. Voldemort had discovered something in an old book -- something that had made him happy.

And then just as clearly, Harry knew where those books had come from. He dropped the book in his hand and raced toward the door. "Severus!" he cried, but the common room beyond was empty. A quick search of the other rooms revealed that Snape was gone.

No matter, Harry thought to himself. He knew where those books came from -- knew where to look. And if truth be told, there was no one else in the castle better suited to see if there had been anything else left behind. No one else could even get into the room they had been kept. He grabbed his firebolt and his invisibility cloak, and headed for the Chamber of Secrets.

----------------------------

Author's Note: I was going to write a scene where Snape goes back to Rosewood Hall and confronts his brothers, but the truth was, it didn't do anything to advance the plot of the story. We already know he 'dealt' with them -- and I will mention in passing in a later chapter that when Snape did return he put them under a monitoring spell. So, I'm sorry to those of you who wanted to see the big confrontation -- it wasn't really important to the continuation of the story. Maybe I'll write the side scene at a later date.

And to those of you who asked why Snape didn't disown Julius -- it wouldn't fit with Snape's idea of duty. If Snape was willing to kill his father for disgracing the family honor, he could hardly just disown Julius and let him go. Snape would feel responsible for keeping Julius in check from here on in -- truthfully Snape probably feels guilty for not keeping a closer eye on the family all these years. Besides as the Head of House, Snape has more control over Julius this way. Based on the way the other two brothers and his sisters-in-law acted with regards to the Manor house, controlling the purse strings of the family seems one of the best ways to keep them all in check.

As for Harry -- yes, he threw a temper-tantrum. He's 16, and he's confused. I think he's finally just realized that he really is married. And I thought it would be interesting to make Harry the one with the strong, ingrained ideas of what marriage should be about. Eventually Harry will realize that if he believes in monogamy that means that at some point he'll have to sleep with Severus -- either that or spend the rest of his life celibate. Actually -- someone will have to point this little fact out to him -- he's still a bit behind on things. But he's trying to catch up at least.

Snape on the other hand has figured out exactly what this means -- it will be his first cause to hope for their future.

Regarding Astronomy -- I don't recall Harry ever taking Astronomy during the first 4 books. Maybe he did and I just don't remember. Regardless, for this story he's never had Sinistra as a teacher. I just assumed it would have been one of the many classes Hermione would have taken particularly during 3rd year.


	21. Chapter 21 Serpents

Chapter 21 - Serpents

Harry had not returned to the Chamber of Secrets since the night he'd rescued Ginny Weasley from the memory of Tom Riddle. It took some doing maneuvering through the crumbling old passageways. And when at last he found himself in the center chamber all he could do was stare at the decaying carcass of the basilisk that had nearly claimed his life four years ago -- would have if it hadn't been for Fawkes.

The chamber was utterly silent, save for the sound of water dripping far in the distance. And he could see by the dust on the ground that nothing had been disturbed. No one had entered these room since he had last been there -- a thought that comforted him immensely. He knew of course that the Chamber, though deep under the foundations of Hogwarts, was still inside the protective wards of the castle. Still it was nice to know that the Dark Lord had not been here since he'd been resurrected -- in fact had probably not been here since he himself was a student at Hogwarts nearly fifty years ago. And now that the basilisk was dead, these Chambers lay completely empty.

Still it was with some nervousness that he made his way toward the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin that loomed above the skeleton of the beast that once lived inside it. He remembered all to clearly the sight of the giant snake emerging from the opened mouth. It took a great deal of courage to mount his broom and fly straight into that mouth himself, not knowing what it was he would find on the other side.

Not another basilisk -- he was ninety percent certain that there were no others in the chamber. As far as he knew even basilisks needed another of its kind to mate. And despite Salazar Slytherin's infamous pet, basilisks were not native to England.

It was dark inside and Harry pulled out his wand and muttered the lumos spell to light his way. Inside the rounded chamber beyond the tunnel through the mouth, he found a single doorway, intricately carved with snakes. He knew if he pushed on the door he would find it locked with unbreakable charms. There was only one-way through the door -- and at the moment there were only two people on the face of the earth who possessed the ability to enter.

Harry stared at the snakes, concentrating on speaking to them. Then he simply said "open". The word came out in the soft hiss of Parseltongue. A moment later the snakes on the door came to life, twisting and turning as they shifted the locking mechanism. The door swung silently open.

Heart pounding, Harry stepped through the doorway into the room beyond. He knew he was the second person in a thousand years who had entered the private library of Salazar Slytherin -- the true Chamber of Secrets.

It wasn't a large room -- but it was impressive enough. A thousand years ago books were far more precious than they were today. The four walls in the room beyond were covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves. And Harry could feel the protection and preservation spells that kept the books intact over the ages.

The books that remained -- he could see clearly that many were missing. Here and there were volumes gone, empty places where they must have once resided. Fifty years ago a young Tom Riddle had made his way into this room and had drunk his fill of the knowledge he found here. Fifty years ago Tom Riddle had found all the dark secrets he would need to become the greatest Dark Lord in the world. He had often wondered where that knowledge had come from -- certainly he'd sneaked his own share of peaks at books in Hogwarts restricted section. But Tom Riddle promised his Death Eaters powers that they could not find anywhere else. There had to have been a source -- a place that had first started him down that dark path. And here in this Chamber Harry knew he had found his answer.

Fifty years ago Tom Riddle had taken the darkest, most horrible secrets that Salazar Slytherin had possessed. He had taken those books and he had hidden them away somewhere he would have access to them after he had graduated from Hogwarts himself. That knowledge had allowed him to remake himself into the creature they now knew as Lord Voldemort. And he was learning still. Harry could see the books now in his mind -- books from the dream that had so disturbed him. Black books with strange writing -- numerous volumes of a specific type. Diaries he believed -- Salazar Slytherin's Dark Arts notes, written in his own hand. There were ten of them, slim volumes, but filled with such terrible powers. And having lost the Eye of Odin he had so craved, Tom Riddle had turned his attention once again to the books he had hidden way during his last reign of terror and had begun learning again.

But Harry couldn't bring himself to believe that darkness was all this chamber had to offer. There were still hundreds of books here -- Riddle had only taken a small fraction of them. Which meant the books left behind were either common or worthless. Slytherin may have turned dark -- but, once, he had been the closest of friends with Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. He couldn't have left only darkness behind as his legacy.

Harry found himself drawn to the far side of the room where he saw a shelf at about chest high with a large empty section. He touched the shelf, running his fingers through the thick dust he found there. The books had rested here. Ten volumes -- the Books of Dark. Salazar Slytherin's private notes. There were numerous other books missing from the shelves above and below this empty spot. This wall had been well picked over.

He turned to stare at the wall opposite it. It alone of all the shelves had the fewest missing books from it -- which meant that Riddle had not valued the information it contained. And there -- directly across from the empty shelf he could see ten slim volumes covered in a thousand years of dust.

Heart pounding, he made his way across the room and touched the first volume, drawing it off the shelf with reverence. Like the dark book from his dream this too was covered in strange twisting shapes, though the cover was brown instead of black. The writing made his head spin but began resolving itself into familiar patterns. Parseltongue -- the book was written in Parseltongue.

He looked inside -- Volume 1 of the notes of Salazar Slytherin. A dissertation on the Light Arts. There were ten in all -- ten volumes that Riddle had dismissed as unimportant. The ten Books of Light that might hold the counters to the darkness Riddle had chosen.

It took him only a moment to pull out all ten of the books and wrap them up in his invisibility cloak. Then with one finally look around, he left the chamber and locked it again with a hissed command. He had what he came for -- he could only pray that it would be enough to save those he loved from the darkness he knew was coming.

----------

When Severus Snape returned to his chambers he was alarmed to realize that Harry was no longer there. A quick look through the rooms showed that the library was still in a state of disarray -- though Harry had apparently begun picking up the books he knocked over in his anger. But where had he gone then?

He knew the boy was angry -- though he wasn't certain why. Truthfully, he couldn't figure out the boy's motivation for half the things he did. When he had begun telling him about Sonara Sinistra earlier, Severus had at first assumed the boy was either telling him that he was planning on taking up with her -- or even stranger asking him for permission to do so. His reaction of disgust and outrage had been both surprising and welcomed, since he wasn't entirely certain he was going to be able to stand by and do nothing while his bond-mate cheated on him. He wasn't certain why Harry had been so angry, but one thing was obvious -- Sinistra's affections were unwanted. And while he didn't know what to do to calm down his bond-mate, he knew exactly what to do about Sinistra.

He'd stormed to her room, pounding on her door until she'd let him into her chambers. She'd looked surprise to see him, since he tended to avoid her company despite their shared history in Slytherin.

"Severus?" she'd asked nervously, pulling her dressing gown modestly around her slender body -- he'd wondered why she even bothered with such a pretense. But then, he was hardly young enough to tempt someone like her.

"Stay away from Harry," he'd ordered, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Her eyes had narrowed at that. "I hardly think my interactions with. . ."

"Listen to me, Sinistra," Severus had growled. "Your attentions toward him are unwanted. Once he figured out what it was you wanted, he grew very upset. I'm only going to warn you once, if you go near him again he will be the last young man you ever approach. All the rest will run screaming in horror at the mere thought of touching you after you consume the potion that will accidentally find its way into your food. I guarantee there will be no cure or glamour that will undo the damage this potion will do to your looks. Do I make myself clear?"

She was pale now, staring at him in undisguised fear. It was no small threat coming from a Potions Master and she knew it. "Perfectly," she'd assured him, her voice tight.

He'd nodded in satisfaction and made his way to the door.

But of course she was still a Slytherin and couldn't help attempting to salvage something of the situation despite the threat. "I did not think he meant so much to you," she'd stated.

Severus had known there was a question in there -- and with that question was of course a threat that perhaps she had found some vulnerability that had been previously unknown. "Sinistra," he'd growled in warning. "Do not think about him at all." He'd slammed the door as he left.

But where was Harry now? It was well past curfew, and he knew Harry had already bid goodnight to Ron and Hermione. Why had he gone out again, leaving the library in such a state? He began picking up the books himself, hoping to find a clue to why he was missing. Perhaps Lupin and Black had returned from their latest errand of the Headmasters? He supposed it was possible they had contacted him through the floo.

It was also just as likely that he had gone up to Gryffindor tower. He had no idea why Harry had been so angry with him, but maybe he had left simply to get away from him for a night. He couldn't help wondering what it was he had said that had so set the boy off.

He realized that Muggles had many different beliefs than Wizards, but considering the circumstances of their marriage, why would the idea of infidelity have been so abhorrent to the boy? Not that he was going to complain. Aside from the shame and the scandal such a thing could cause if dealt with carelessly in public -- and Merlin knew Gryffindors were always careless -- Severus did not like the idea of sharing Harry with anyone.

It was nearly two hours later before he heard the door to their rooms opening and Harry entered the common room with his broom in hand. For some strange reason the boy was dirty -- as if he'd been out climbing rocks. Granted there was a lot of mud near the Quidditch pitch, but surely he hadn't been out in it this time of night?

"Where have you been?" he demanded when Harry came in.

The boy looked a lot calmer than he had last time Severus had seen him, but he still jumped when Severus yelled.

"Out," he replied, not insolently, but with a certain degree of reserve that Severus didn't like. It was on the tip of his tongue to take points from Gryffindor, but he'd promised himself he would not do that here in their chambers.

"I see," he stated, gritting his teeth. He glared at the boy, willing him to tell Severus where he had gone. Harry just stared back in silence.

After a moment, the boy shifted uncomfortably and glanced away. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled and headed toward the bedroom door.

Severus wanted to grab him and shake an answer from him, but he knew that would get him nowhere.

"Professor Sinistra won't bother you again," he said instead.

That stopped Harry and he turned around, a look of uncertainty crossing his features.

Severus frowned. "That is what you wanted right?"

Harry nodded. "I don't have to go see her on Saturday?" He sounded disgustingly young and Severus hated himself for the feelings of possessiveness that gripped him.

"You never did," he replied.

"Good," he answered. "Thank you."

Severus just nodded. "You're welcome." And he watched in frustrated silence as Harry disappeared through the bedroom door.

------------------------

Author's Note: Don't worry, Harry won't keep the books a secret too long. But the reality is, he's the only one who can read them anyway. And yes, books written in Parseltongue are yet another cliche in fandom. But it's a good cliche!

Why would Voldemort ignore these books? Simply put -- there is nothing in them that interest him. Voldemort has a single goal in mind (though you won't learn it for a while), and nothing beyond that goal interests him at all.

Thank you for everyone who checked the facts on the Astronomy class. Now that you mention it I do recall Harry buying a telescope in book 1 and having a midnight class -- though I don't know if Sinistra was ever actually named as his teacher (maybe there is more than one Astronomy teacher?). She is listed as the Astronomy teacher on most web sites (Vector apparently teaches Arithmancy). Maybe she only teaches advanced Astronomy? Either way, it's a fairly minor detail so I'm not going to worry about it too much. I hope it doesn't bother anyone greatly. Now that Snape has dealt with her, she won't bother Harry again.

Up next -- I have a bit of a jump in time in the next section. It is actually one of my favorite parts of this story. It deals with Christmas. There is a return of Remus and Sirius (which is always good in my opinion), but largely it deals with Harry making a conscious effort to include Severus in his life. He's finally figured out he's married -- that the man is now his family -- and okay, maybe he doesn't know what to do with him yet, but at least he makes an effort.

BTW -- to those of you who asked, yes, my name is a nod to Jane Austen. She's one of my favorite writers.


	22. Chapter 22 Family

Chapter 22 - Family

To Severus Snape's surprise, life with Harry Potter was actually quite pleasant. As luck would have it Harry's annoying dog-father and the Wolf were away on missions for Dumbledore more often than not, so he rarely had to deal with his childhood nemesis.

As for Potter -- they butted heads on occasion, and Severus found himself reacting with difficulty to the increasing attraction he felt for the young man who shared his bed, but he also came to enjoy his company in the quite hours when both of them were working on their daily tasks of life. More and more, the boy became comfortable enough to begin talking a bit more with him, and though he tried not to let on too much, Severus found his conversations welcomed. He'd lived a remarkably solitary life, and with the sudden company thrust upon him, he began to realize just how lonely he had been throughout most of it. Even the addition of Harry's owl Hedwig, who had taken to watching him in the mornings from a perch by the fire, was a welcomed change.

For the most part things were quiet on the war front -- though Severus had to sit through numerous Quidditch matches along side Slytherin parents who had reason to hate the Gryffindor Seeker. The day Harry had taken the Eye of Odin from Voldemort's hand several parents of his Slytherin students had lost their lives -- to sit beside their spouses at a school game when his loyalties were now publicly known while they watched the boy who had brought so much defeat to their lives trounce their home team proved to be a nail-biting experience. Albus, however, always made certain to come to the games himself, and with him came all the other teachers of Hogwarts and numerous Order members so nothing ever happened beyond the life threatening reality of rogue bludgers.

However life with Harry Potter, also meant life with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. It wasn't until late October that Harry first invited his friends into their quarters for a late night study session. Since Severus knew they were working on Defense Against the Dark Arts (this year's teacher was as bad as last year's), he really didn't have cause to stop them. He had commended Hermione Granger on the outside research she had done to help Harry -- knew that these study sessions from last year were what had saved Harry's life time and time again. He could hardly complain when they asked to use his private library -- something that technically Harry had full right to explore. His quarters were now Harry's quarters though he might resent it.

Again, surprisingly, he found he didn't mind the company of the other two Gryffindors either. Granger was extraordinarily intelligent, and the few times she'd braved his presence to ask him a question about something she didn't understand, he had been impressed by her grasp of magical theory. And though he found Ron Weasley annoying, he had to admit that the boy had an amusing sense of humor and a startling grasp of strategy. Severus had watched him playing wizards chess against Harry a couple of times and had been impressed by how quickly he had defeated the Gryffindor golden boy.

When Harry approached him early one evening at the beginning of December with a somewhat pensive look on his face, Severus had been worried that perhaps something had happened to disturb the status quo they had managed to maintain the last few months. He'd been sitting by the fire reading a new potion's manual when Harry had entered their quarters alone and sat down across from him in the chair that had become 'his' over the weeks.

"Something wrong?" Severus asked when he realized that Harry was staring at him.

"No," Harry said quickly, then shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to ask you about Christmas."

Christmas -- a holiday that Severus had little use for. His family had of course celebrated the various solstice rites, but since that holiday was a time for family Severus had fallen out of the practice. It hadn't been an overly happy time when he was a child, though he did remember some pleasant evenings with his sister. Since his falling out with his family he had never done much for the holiday -- though he supposed now he might try to at least pay his sister a visit. Julius, now under the influence of Severus' curse, was not speaking to him. Claudius and Marcellus were also under a powerful monitoring spell, but were actually more angry at his failure to reopen Snape Manor. He supposed eventually he would have do so, but it could wait for a time when he was not so busy.

"What about it?" Severus asked. No doubt Harry had some ridiculous Gryffindor ideas about trees and presents and various different Yuletide games. He knew that the Weasleys wanted him to spend the holiday at the Burrow this year -- Albus had already talked to him about it and he supposed Harry had just heard.

"The Weasleys invited me to the Burrow this holiday," Harry explained. He stared at Snape expectantly.

Severus frowned -- this was the problem with being forced into a marriage with someone so young. "Are you asking for my permission to go?"

Harry gave him a hesitant smile. "I guess," he admitted uncertainly, looking uncomfortable. Severus suspected that asking for things wasn't a common occurrence for Harry -- he could just imagine what happened with the Dursleys when he made a request of them. He looked now as if he were expecting Severus to refuse him and was marshalling whatever arguments he might have to sway his mind.

"Harry," Severus sighed. "I told you long ago, I am not your father or your guardian. I am your bond-mate. You do not need my permission to spend the holidays as you see fit. However, considering who you are, it would be wise to investigate certain security measures for such an arrangement."

The boy looked startled by his response. "Oh," he blinked uncertainly at Severus. "I. . . does this mean you don't mind?"

"Mind?" Severus frowned. "It hardly matters if I mind or not. Albus has already spoken with me -- he's added extra wards to the Burrow, and all the elder Weasley children will be present for the holiday, along with your godfather and Lupin. Provided you do not do anything crazy like wander off by yourself, you should be safe enough. I trust you won't do anything to endanger yourself?"

"I won't," the boy assured him, looking almost giddy with excitement -- no doubt he had expected this conversation to go much differently. There was a sparkle in his eyes that Severus had rarely seen, as if he had already been given what ever ridiculous Christmas presents he was likely to be offered come Yule. "Thank you!"

"It had nothing to do with me," Severus shrugged. "Thank the Weasleys and the Headmaster." He turned his attention back to the manual he was reading, wondering suddenly how he was going to endure the silence during the two weeks of vacation while Harry was gone. It surprised him that he was not looking forward to it.

The boy had jumped up from his seat and raced to the door, no doubt to inform the Weasley boy that he could join them for the holiday after all. He paused at the door however and looked back at Severus.

"Severus?" he asked hesitantly.

Severus looked up, a strange shiver going through his body at the sound of his name. Even after these last several months it still startled him when Harry used his name. There were only a handful of people in the world who used his given name -- but there was something doubly intimate about Harry doing so, as if it were something almost illicit between them. Those bright green eyes were gazing at him oddly from behind his glasses.

"The Weasleys invited both of us, you know," Harry informed him.

Severus blinked, momentarily taken aback by the very idea. "Both of us?"

Harry nodded. "Mrs. Weasley specifically extended the invitation to you."

"What would I possibly do at the Burrow for two weeks?" Severus asked incredulously. Surely the boy wasn't suggesting he join him? Did he imagine Severus sitting around playing Exploding Snaps with Ron and the twins for two weeks -- or perhaps they could all play Quidditch in the snow in the backyard.

The boy flushed in embarrassment. "I just meant for Christmas," he amended. "I know you're probably very busy with school work over the holidays. I meant for Christmas. You could come for Christmas Eve and stay the night -- eat dinner with us on Christmas Day."

"Surely you're joking?" Severus just stared at the boy, taking in his flushed features and bright eyes. Harry was biting his lower lip in a way that indicated he was anxious about something -- was he afraid perhaps that Severus was going to say yes and possibly ruin the holiday for him?

"Please," the boy said, surprising the hell out of Severus. Please? The boy wanted him to say yes? He stared at him in disbelief. "It's Christmas," the boy continued, his voice taking on a cajoling tone. Merlin, the boy did want him to say yes! "Please say you'll come."

"Why on earth. . ." Severus began.

"We're family now," Harry cut him off, and this time Severus heard something almost pleading in his tone. There was hope burning in his eyes -- hope and a touch of wariness as if he feared being struck down for making such a request or making such a claim. Severus tried to imagine what holidays might have been like for the boy before coming to Hogwarts. If the Dursleys were abusive to him the rest of the year, how much worse might they have been on the holidays when families were supposed to pull together? Was the boy so desperate to be part of a family that he was willing to put up with someone he so blatantly didn't like? Severus wasn't certain how to respond.

Harry took a step toward him, looking both shy and anxious, which was odd to see in so brave and brash a young man. "Look," Harry sighed. "I know you don't like . . ." He frowned at that, his gaze turning inward as he thought about how to continue. "Well, you don't like . . . me, or the Weasleys, or Sirius, or Remus, or Christmas or. . . " He sighed again, looking rather defeated all of a sudden. "I guess. . ." he shrugged helplessly as if realizing what a ridiculous request he had made. He looked up and Severus saw that same pleading look in his eyes. For whatever reason, Harry genuinely wanted him to join them for Christmas. He found himself unable to refuse the boy's request -- of course if he was honest with himself, he really didn't hate the idea. It might be nice to share Christmas with Harry -- even if it meant he had to put up with all the rest of it.

"I am beginning to find you somewhat tolerable," he conceded, amending Harry's long list of the things he didn't like.

Harry's eyes lit up like the sun, taking Severus' breath away. "Then you'll come?" he exclaimed hopefully.

Severus was quite beyond any hope of refusal now. "I imagine I can put up with the annoyances for a day or two," he offered.

The smile on Harry's face seemed to brighten the entire room. "Thanks!" he grinned, and then turned and rushed from the room, leaving a very bemused Potion Master staring after him.

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Harry sat on Neville's bed and watched as Ron packed up his trunk for their trip back home to the Burrow. Harry's things were already waiting down in the common room where Professor McGonagall had promised to meet them with a port key that would take them straight to the Weasley's living room. Normally he never got a chance to go anywhere for the holidays and Harry was excited about the two weeks ahead of him. He was looking forward to Christmas for the first time in years.

"I can't believe you invited him, Harry!" Ron was exclaiming as he haphazardly tossed his things into his trunk.

"I told you, your mother invited him," Harry explained. Ron was horrified of the idea of having Professor Snape in their house for Christmas. He couldn't seem to get his mind around it. Harry on the other hand was quite glad the man had agreed to join them. He'd grown rather fond of the man over the last few months, now that they'd gotten past the endlessly grumpiness and sniping. Harry had begun to enjoy his sense of humor and quick wit, though he wasn't ready to tell Ron that yet. He also hadn't liked the thought of the man spending the holidays all alone. He knew that despite the family reunion back in September, relations were still strained with Severus and the rest of the Snapes. He doubted the man would be joining them for the holidays. His sister was the only one he kept in regular touch with, but Harry had sensed that there was some tension there as well mostly due to Diana's husband.

"Fine, then I can't believe my mother invited him!" Ron grumbled. "And you didn't have to tell him, you know."

"Oh, Ron, get used to it," Harry sighed. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. Or are you forgetting things could be a lot worse."

"Worse?" Ron demanded. "How could they possibly be worse?"

"Well, for one thing, instead of being married to Professor Snape, I could be married to Hermione or you," Harry reminded him mildly.

Ron blanched at that, shuddering with the thought. "Good point."

"Thanks," Harry said with mock insult.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean anything by it Harry," he groused. "I just. . . well, you know. . . "

"I know," Harry laughed. "It's just for two days, Ron. No one should spend Christmas alone. Besides we'll have the rest of the holiday all to ourselves. It will be just like old times. And Remus and Sirius are coming. It will be brilliant!"

"That's true," Ron closed up his trunk. "All right, I'll behave. But he's not sleeping in my room!"

Harry just laughed and helped his friend carry his trunk down to the common room where Ginny and Hermione were already waiting for them. The rest of the tower was already empty -- all the other students had headed home for the holiday that morning on the train. They were the last of them to leave due to the need for extra security surrounding Harry. They would be traveling by port key instead of the Hogwarts Express since even the Ministry agreed that it was no longer a safe means of transport for Harry Potter.

"Is everyone ready?" Professor McGonagall asked as she entered the common room through the portrait door. She had an old mitten in her hand. She glanced around the room at the four students and the four trunks. "The port key leaves in five minutes so I hope you have all remembered to pack everything. It should deposit you directly in the living room of the Burrow."

"All ready, Professor," the four students informed her.

"Have you informed your parents, Hermione?" McGonagall asked unnecessary. Hermione had made arrangements to go to the Burrow for the holidays almost a month ago -- Harry had no doubt that she'd informed her parents immediately.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied courteously. "They're going to join us later."

"Excellent," the woman nodded just as the portrait door opened a second time and Professor Snape came striding into the room. Harry stood up quickly, wondering why Severus was here. The others all turned as well, surprised looks on all their faces. None of them had ever seen Professor Snape in the Gryffindor common room before.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked warily, thinking that perhaps he was going to be informed after all that he could not go with the others.

Confronted with five Gryffindors and a room decorated predominately in red and gold, a very familiar sneer crossed Snape's features. But rather than fire off with his usual insults he just thrust out his hand toward Harry, holding out a heavy fur-lined cloak to him. "You forgot your cloak," he informed him. "It's cold out."

For a moment Harry was stunned speechless. It was such an oddly caring thing to do -- like something an overly worried mother might do for a small child. He reached out hesitantly and took the cloak from Severus' hands. "Thank you," he smiled bemusedly.

"You're welcome," Snape sneered, his words belying the expression. He glanced around at the other stunned faces in the room, then nodded stiffly to Harry. "Have fun," he said curtly then turned and strode just as swiftly from the room as he'd entered.

Harry glanced at the others -- even McGonagall was staring at him with an expression of surprise. He shrugged at them somewhat bewilderedly.

"Huh. . ." Ron mused. "Must be the holiday spirit."

"Or Old Ogden's," Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath. "Never mind now, all of you take hold of your trunks and touch the port key." She handed the mitten over to Harry while they all grasped their trunks. The others all reached out and touched a finger to the mitten and a moment later they were whisked off across Scotland and deposited safely in the heart of the Burrow.

-----------------------------

Author's Note: So Harry is off to the Burrow for the holidays. Yes, you'll get to find out what he did with the books, and yes, you'll find if Sirius has made any progress with Remus. And Severus will get to attempt to fit in with the Weasleys. And Harry will finally learn a lot more about the Wizarding World, including some important facts of life.


	23. Chapter 23 Wolves

Chapter 23 Wolves

Molly Weasley was waiting for them as they landed. And no sooner had they appeared than they were all enveloped in a warm hug as she rushed around the room greeting each of them -- just as enthusiastic to see Harry and Hermione as she was her own children. The twins joined them a moment later, and between the lot of them managed to drag all the trunks upstairs to the appropriate bedrooms. Harry would be staying with Ron while Hermione would be bunking with Ginny. Molly was already frantically trying to figure out where to put everyone else once the rest of the company arrived.

"Now, I'm going to move Percy into the twin's room so that Professor Snape can have his room," Molly informed Harry. "And I'll have Charlie bunk in with Bill so that Remus and Sirius can have his room -- you don't think they'll mind bunking together do you?" She looked worried at the thought.

Harry stifled a laugh at that. "I'm sure it will be fine," he informed her. Both men had written to him regularly and as far as he could tell there had been no further advancement in their relationship, though Sirius was eternally hopefully. He was certain that Sirius at least would not complain about the sleeping arrangements. If Remus did, then Sirius could always sleep on the couch in dog form, something he'd done often enough in the past. As it was he had a surprise for the two men that he was hoping would make both their lives easier eventually. He couldn't wait to see them.

"I can't believe you married Professor Snape, Harry," Fred exclaimed as he and George set their trunks down in Ron's bedroom.

"How's it been, mate?" George asked with mock horror. "He poison you nightly with foul smelling potions?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred continued. "We've got all sorts of nifty new products to try out on him when he arrives."

"Don't you dare!" Harry protested, surprising both boys.

"Yeah, guys," Ron agreed. "Imagine the revenge he'll take on Harry if you do anything too evil."

The twins shuddered in horror.

"That's not what I meant," Harry said in exasperation, shoving his glasses more firmly onto his nose. "It was hard enough getting him to agree to join us for Christmas as it was -- if you annoy him, he'll never join us again."

All three of the Weasley boys stopped what they were doing and stared at Harry in confusion. "Ah, Harry," Ron asked. "Wouldn't that be . . . like. . . a good thing?"

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. "No, look, just trust me on this . . .he's been nice. I'd rather get along with him than go back to the way things were before all this happened. He's . . .you know. . ."

"Nice?" the three of them asked in unison.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Just trust me for once, will you?"

The three brothers looked at each other in confusion, but shrugged their shoulders. "If you say so Harry," they agreed.

"Harry!" two more tall red-heads pushed their way into Ron's small room, and a moment later Harry found himself being hugged enthusiastically by both Bill and Charlie. They greeted Ron as well but both seemed far more interested in the golden wedding band Harry was wearing on his hand.

"From what I hear you were nearly married off to one of us," Charlie teased.

Harry found himself blushing at the though. He wondered how much different married life might have been if he had married either Bill or Charlie. "Well . . ."

"Hell, he was nearly married off to me," Ron informed them. "We were desperate to find someone."

"But Snape?" Charlie exclaimed. "I would have been a much better choice than Snape!"

"What are you talking about," Bill cut in. "I would have been the best choice of all. You would have forgotten all about your new bond-mate the moment you saw your next dragon. At least I would give him the attention he deserved."

"Well, what about one of us?" one of the twins protested. "We're of age, and much closer to Harry."

"Not to mention," the other twin added. "He'd get two for the price of one."

"Yeah, if one of us wasn't around, the other could fill in for him and Harry here would never notice."

"Maybe Harry could throw over Snape and pick one of us instead," Charlie agreed. All four men turned toward him earnestly. "What do you say, Harry?" they asked in unison.

Harry just stared at them open-mouthed, feeling both flustered and awkward, not certain how to respond. "Um. . .I . . ." he stammered, only to find himself blushing furiously as a moment later all four of them burst into laugher.

They hugged him again, ruffling his hair. "We're just teasing with you, Harry," the twins assured him.

"As long as Snape hasn't poisoned you yet, I reckon things are all right," Charlie agreed.

Harry just laughed, throwing Ron a glare for not warning him. "Welcome to my world, " Ron grumbled, and Harry understood that this was what it was like to have brothers.

They spent the day goofing around in the backyard, despite the cold. They bundled up in warm jackets and gloves and fought a war with snowballs for most of the day -- the twins spicing things up by adding in a few of their products, particularly a powder that when sprinkled on a firmly packed snow ball reshaped it into the form of a flying dragon. Getting clobbered by a flying snow dragon was a lot more fun than simply getting hit by a snowball.

When night began falling -- something that happened very early in the afternoon in December -- the boys trekked back into the house to warm up. At Arthur's bidding, they returned to their rooms to don warmer winter gear so that they could decorate the outside of the house with fairy lights. As the temperature was dropping fast, Harry pulled on the heavy winter cloak Severus had brought to him before he'd left that afternoon. As he fastened the silver clasps that held it together, he noticed something heavy inside one of the inner pockets. Reaching in, he pulled out a small leather case. Inside he found numerous single-dose vials filled with a dark blue liquid. At the sight of them he knew immediately what they were, the realization sending a warm pleasure through his body.

"What's that?" Ron asked curiously, noticing Harry staring at the case of potions.

"Dreamless Sleep," Harry said with a silly grin on his face. "I forgot to ask for some to bring with me. I guess Severus remembered for me."

Ron said nothing for a moment, an odd look crossing his face. Harry glanced at him curiously. He knew both Ron and Hermione had heard him refer to Severus by his first name before, so he doubted that had startled him. No doubt he was surprised by the act of kindness from their normally gruff Potions Master. But Ron surprised him.

"Are you still having nightmares, Harry?" he asked softly.

Harry sighed. "There not bad, Ron."

"Harry, you used to throw a silencing charm on your bed at night," Ron reminded him. "We all used to joke around about why Seamus or Dean might use silencing charms on their beds at night. But I always knew that you did it to stifle your screams at night. We all knew it, Harry. We just didn't know what to do to help you."

Harry stared at his friend in surprise. He hadn't known he'd been so obvious -- or perhaps he had simply not expected his friends in Gryffindor to be so observant. He was guilty sometimes of under-estimating all of them. "I never liked talking about them," he admitted carefully.

"You can, you know," Ron told him. "I know I'm not the most sensitive bloke around, and I know I don't understand things the way Hermione does. But I'll always listen Harry if you need to talk or anything."

His words washed over Harry like a pleasant balm to the sharp tug he felt on his heart. "Thanks, Ron," he smiled.

Ron just grinned in embarrassment as he realized he'd been caught in a mushy moment. He motioned to the leather case. "Does it help -- the potion?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "He makes a special batch for me now -- they only allow peaceful dreams to come through. I take it nearly every night."

"I guess that's the good thing about having a Potions Master in the family," Ron grinned.

"That's what he said," Harry admitted.

They heard a shout from the twins downstairs, urging them to hurry up. Harry carefully put the leather case away in his trunk where he could find it when he needed it. Then the two of them hurried downstairs to help Mr. Weasley put charmed Fairy Lights on the outside of their house.

Harry had never stayed long at the Burrow before, but the ensuing days were just as crazy as he imagined with that many people in the family. Though Harry was a bit overwhelmed by so many Weasleys, he found he loved every minute of it. He and Ron spent that first night whispering to each other late into the night as they used to do in Gryffindor tower -- something Harry had missed down the dungeons. But oddly enough he found himself actually missing Snape's presence in the bed along side him. He'd grown used to sharing that enormous bed down in the dungeons, and felt somewhat uncomfortable alone again. If nothing else having someone strong and powerful beside him had given him a sense of comfort that he'd never had before. He knew that if anything happened during the night, Snape would be able to deal with it. He couldn't help wondering though if Snape was grateful to have his bed all to himself again.

Remus and Sirius arrived a few days later and Harry greeted them both joyfully, flinging his arms around the two men as they came in from the cold. Both men looked tired and somewhat ragged from whatever mission Dumbledore had sent them on, though a few good meals from Molly Weasley soon had both men set to rights. But they were both happy to see Harry and pleased to be able to spend some time just relaxing with everyone, all of them forgetting about the cares of the world for a few short days.

Harry could tell from the way they reacted to each other that Sirius had made little headway in his mission to woo and win Remus Lupin. But then he suspected that had more to do with how busy they had been than in any true reticence on the part of the reluctant werewolf. If anything Remus seemed flattered by Sirius's attentions, if somewhat cautious.

Sadly however he suffered a sever set back when Fleur Delacore, who was currently dating Bill, stopped by to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Though Sirius, out of a need for secrecy, had resumed his Animagus form, he like most of the other men in the room was still affected by the beautiful Veela girl. Arthur and Remus alone seemed to have some sort of immunity to her.

Harry found himself watching the Weasley boys fawn over the beautiful Veela girl with some amusement. He definitely found Fleur beautiful -- but she didn't have quite the affect on him that she did on the others. Even during fourth year he had noticed his reaction had not been like those of his classmates. Still he found it amusing to watch the others gaze at her with such sappy expressions on their faces. She wasn't a full Veela, so she didn't inspire the madness a true Veela did. But it was obvious that the men in the room found her very interesting.

He watched as Ginny and Molly just rolled their eyes at the men in disgust. Hermione, after giving Ron some absolutely furious glares, abandoned the men to join Molly in the kitchen. Remus, after greeting Fleur politely, stood off to the side for a moment and watched in annoyance as a certain scruffy looking dog wagged his tail enthusiastically and gazed adoringly up at the Veela girl while she cooed over the 'sweet puppy' and scratched his ears. So enamored of the attention he was getting, Sirius never even noticed when Remus left the house to take in the fresh air outside.

Shaking his head ruefully, Harry followed Remus outside. The man was standing on the far end of the porch, staring thoughtfully out at the gray sky. There was another snowstorm blowing in.

"You okay, Remus?" Harry asked carefully.

Remus turned to glance at him and for a moment he thought that the man's gentle amber eyes flashed yellow in the cold light. Harry's own eyes widened behind his thick glasses. The werewolf turned away quickly.

"I'm fine, Harry," he said tightly.

"She's a Veela," he explained, just in case the werewolf didn't know. He was fairly certain that Remus had never met Fleur before, though he was bound to have heard about her from the Triwizard Tournament. "They can't help themselves."

"She's a half Veela," Remus amended. "Werewolves have a very keen sense of smell. And as far as not being able to help it, they can all help it if they so chose. She's not affecting you or Arthur."

Harry just shrugged. "I don't know why. She's never really affected me. And I guess Arthur is just . . . " He almost said 'too much in love with his wife to notice' when he realized that would probably be a rather condemning thing to say with regards to Sirius' behavior.

"Yes, Arthur is," Remus agreed despite the fact that Harry had not finished his statement.

"I just meant. . ." Harry broke off and Remus sighed.

"Sirius is not affected by the Veela charm either," the werewolf told him. "He's too strong a wizard for it to bother him, and in his Animagus form it has no affect anyway. He's just acting like that because it amuses him. He likes being the center of attention, and he's getting a kick out of the fact that he's getting petted by a beautiful woman while the other men in the room are being ignored."

"But it still makes you jealous," Harry said quietly.

Remus looked up startled, then surprisingly flushed with embarrassment. "How did you . . ."

"I see the way you two look at each other," Harry told him. "And I've seen the way he's been flirting with you. It's kind of hard to miss -- the way he touches you all the time. The suggestive statements."

"You don't mind?" Remus asked hesitantly.

"Of course not," Harry assured him. "I think it's great. You two belong together."

Remus shrugged ruefully at that. "I don't know about that," he muttered.

"You like him, don't you?" Harry pressed.

"It's more complicated than that," Remus told him with a sad look in his eyes.

"Because you're a werewolf," Harry nodded. "I know. And so does Sirius."

Remus threw a glare back toward the house. "If he really understood he wouldn't be in there making a fool of himself. He has no idea how hard it is controlling the territorial instincts of the wolf. She's a sweet, innocent young girl who's very much enamored with Bill Weasley and all I can think about is going in there and ripping her hands off for touching Sirius."

His words confirmed what Harry suspected, explaining the flash of yellow he had seen in the man's eyes earlier. Remus was one of the calmest, most gentle men he'd ever met, but it didn't change the fact that he had a beast hidden deep inside him. "Did it ever occur to you that that's why Sirius is acting this way?" Harry mused.

Remus looked at him in shock. "What do you mean?"

"Remus, he trusts you implicitly. He knows you won't hurt someone -- knows you won't let the wolf out. Hell, even that first night I met him when you turned into a wolf in front of all of us, he first tried talking you down in human form. Despite the fact that he knew you hadn't taken your potion, he said he trusted the heart of the man inside you. But you're right, Sirius does like being the center of attention -- did it ever occur to you that what he's trying to do is make you jealous so that you'll give him the sort of attention Fleur is giving him."

Remus looked startled at the thought. "Harry, it just isn't safe to make a werewolf jealous. We don't do jealous. We have calm and we have enraged. There's no in between."

"I never said it was a smart plan," Harry conceded. "But this is Sirius we are talking about. He acts impulsively. Give him a chance, he'll grow up eventually."

Remus smiled fondly at him. "You know it's funny -- you sounded an awful lot like James just then in one of his more adult moments. He was good at giving advice."

Harry smiled, pleased. "Let me guess, he was really bad at taking advice however."

"Pretty much," Remus laughed. "Which is probably why it took nearly seven years for him to get your mother to even talk to him."

They heard the front door to the house open and a moment later a large black dog came trotting out, looking hopefully around. He started wagging his tail happily when he spotted Remus and Harry, though Harry thought there was something somewhat apologetic in the tilt to his ears as he hurried over to the two of them. "Speak of the devil," Remus grumbled, his voice almost low enough to be called a growl.

Padfoot sat down on his haunches, gazing hopefully up at the two of them. His tail thumped eagerly against the wooden porch.

"Did you enjoy meeting Fleur?" Remus asked with a deceptively mild tone.

The dog's tail slowed its wagging though his ears perked up curiously. "Yes, I'm sure," Remus sighed. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a bit." And with that he headed down the front steps of the porch and headed out across the field. Padfoot stared after him mournfully.

"Go after him," Harry hissed at the dog. Padfoot's ears perked up immediately and he looked at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes. "Good grief, you're hopeless. Go after him. You're supposed to be man's best friend -- well go prove it."

Padfoot didn't need any more prompting. With an eager bark he was racing off across the field to catch up with the retreating form of Remus. He brushed up against the man's legs as he caught him and then danced around him in the snow, barking joyfully as if playing a wonderful game.

Remus glared at him for a moment, and then Harry saw him shake his head and smile at the dog's antics. To Harry's surprise, Remus bent down and picked up a stick from the snow and tossed it ahead of him. Padfoot took off after it, barking with glee.

Harry found himself laughing. Weird -- very weird. But then he supposed the relationship worked for them. With a smile, he headed back into the warm house and let the wolf and dog work things out for themselves.

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Author's notes: Sorry there was so little Severus here. He'll turn up eventually. Poor Sirius -- I don't know if he'll ever learn. But he is trying in his own odd way. And as Harry said, he does have an interesting surprise for them come Christmas Day. And while Harry doesn't really understand his relationship with Severus, he's starting to realize that he does have one, and that for the most part it has been rather positive.

Thank you all for all the wonderful reviews -- they really make me happy to read.


	24. Chapter 24 History Lessons

Author's Note: There's a whole lot of exposition in this chapter -- which is why you'll get 2 chapters today. But this chapter will finally give you some more insight into the Wizarding World and how it works.

Chapter 24 History Lessons

Anna Granger stood nervously beside her husband Michael. Each of them had a small overnight bag slung over their shoulder, and both were staring with some trepidation at the old shoe on the center of their table. It was a 'port key' Hermione had explained in her letter. The shoe had been delivered just that morning by a large brown owl who had been happy to accept a slice of their morning bacon as payment for the delivery.

"So we just touch it?" Michael asked warily.

"That's what Hermione said in her letter," Anna nodded. They had been invited to some place called the Burrow for Christmas. Now it was December 23rd and they were schedule to make the trip at precisely one minute after 12 noon. It was just noon now. They were both eager to see their daughter, and glad that finally they would be given time enough to truly get to know the family they suspected their daughter would one day belong to if her rather long-winded descriptions of Ronald Weasley were anything to go by. Her letters were always informative, detailed with her academic standings and whatever pieces of Wizarding news she felt were important that they know. And she spoke of Harry quite frequently and her constant worry and concern for the poor boy. But her descriptions of Harry had always been of a sisterly sort -- Ron on the other hand was always referred to in clever asides. And a mother could read between the lines -- she knew her daughter's heart and had long suspected that the red-headed boy had stolen it.

"Well, let's give it a try, I suppose," Michael sighed. With trepidation, they both reached out and touched the shoe. A second later, Anna felt a wrenching sensation in her stomach and before she could shout in surprise she found herself being pulled away from their home in London. The world seemed to blur around them and a moment later refocused. They were no longer where they had been.

Anna had only a moment of disorientation to notice that they now stood in a somewhat old-fashioned looking living room with the most enormous fireplace she had ever seen before she heard a shout of "Mom!" and found her daughter flinging her arms around her in greeting.

The next ten minutes were a blur to Anna as she was introduced to a very large number of redheads, along with Ron and Harry. She had of course met Arthur and Molly several times before when she'd gone shopping with Hermione in Diagon Alley, but it was different being a guest in a person's home.

As for the house itself -- logic dictated that it should not be standing. The architecture did not look at all sound -- particularly the stairs that didn't seem to follow any rhyme or reason beyond the simple fact that they went 'up'. The room they were staying in, covered surprisingly in posters with moving pictures in them, seemed to be larger on the inside that it was on the outside. And the window, which faced the front of the house and should have looked out upon the road, appeared to have a very fine view of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland.

Once they'd settled in the room and unpacked for the two nights they were staying, Anna was led by her daughter and young Ginny Weasley down into the kitchen where Molly fixed her a nice cup of tea while she finished getting lunch made for the mob of people in her house. Anna watched in silent amazement as the woman conducted the various food items and kitchen utensils with a wave of her wand.

The kitchen was far from familiar to Anna -- she only recognized a few of the items in it. Her own kitchen back home was equipped with every modern convenience known to man -- even a few she had yet to find a true use for. But Molly Weasley's kitchen appeared to be at least two hundred years out of date -- that was definitely a butter churn she saw sitting in the corner of the room. Of course when the butter churn pumped itself with little prompting from Molly, Anna supposed the results were better than the processed cubes she bought in the store. There also didn't seem to be anything that resembled a refrigerator in the room -- rather Molly simply opened up a random cupboard and pulled various food items from them. One minute a cupboard was filled with chilled milk, the next Molly was pulling a steaming hot pie out of it. All in all it was very disturbing -- like something out of dream.

She found herself watching her daughter as she helped Molly with various chores in the kitchen. Far from being alarmed by all the oddities that she knew her daughter had not grown up with, Hermione looked very much at home in this environment. Indeed her daughter appeared to be thriving in it as she had ever since that fateful day when her Hogwarts letter had arrived via owl. Anna was pleased that her daughter seemed so happy in this world she had chosen for herself.

But despite all the joy in the strange little house, Anna knew there was a dark side to all of this, made apparent when they all sat down to lunch a short while later and she realized that her husband was seated next to a man she'd seen on the evening telly time and time again as an escaped serial killer. Sirius Black, she recalled the name.

She knew of course that the man was innocent -- Hermione had told her the whole story. Knew also that the other man sitting beside him must be the beloved teacher, Professor Lupin, that Hermione had spoken so highly of. A werewolf, if the stories were to be believed, and she had no reason to think her daughter might lie.

And not far from them was young Harry, with the infamous scar on his forehead that stood as stark reminder to all of them that a threat loomed over both of their worlds. She supposed she'd only heard a fraction of the true adventures her daughter had been involved in, and she knew that Hermione's close friendship with that boy had endangered her life time and time again.

She was also vaguely beginning to understand through her daughter's letters that precisely because of that boy this group of people were somehow at the heart of the Wizarding World -- they were important in the grand scheme of things. And her daughter, by mere association, had become something of a legend in her own right. Simply seeing her daughter's name in that enormously thick book Hermione had shown her last summer -- "Hogwarts, a History" -- had convinced her that things were going on she might never truly understand. The book, self-updating Hermione had said, accounted some of the adventures her daughter, Ron and Harry had been involved in. It was strange to think that in a world she knew next to nothing about, her daughter had become famous.

Later that evening she joined the others in the living room. They sat around the enormous fire (looked like several people could stand up right in the fireplace) and discussed some of the events that were taking place in the world that neither she nor Michael truly understood.

"So how much does the Muggle Ministry know about this fellow Voldemort?" Michael was asking. Anna saw several people flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name and Michael quickly apologized. "Sorry -- I meant You Know Who." Neither of them could really get their minds around the superstition that made people so leery of saying the name.

"Several key figures in the Muggle Ministry are briefed regularly on the events in the Wizarding World," Arthur explained. "But they are very much aware of the fact that there isn't a lot they can do to affect things here. Seems like every year they are trying to impose some sort of new regulations on the Wizarding World, but when it comes right down to it, much of the Wizarding World doesn't even notice."

"How can they not notice?" Michael asked. "I mean doesn't the average Wizard and Witch have to follow the laws just the same as every Muggle?"

"Wizard laws, Michael," Remus explained. "It's actually a small percentage of the Wizarding population who ever interact with Muggles at all. I mean it would be pretty silly to expect Wizards to pay attention to traffic laws when they don't drive cars. And you could hardly expect Muggles to pay attention to apparating laws when they don't even know such things are possible."

"Well what happens when the laws do come into conflict?" Anna asked. She'd been very curious about the letter Hermione had sent to her at the beginning of the semester about Harry. The discovery that Harry had been abused by his family had been heart-breaking -- and just as shocking had been the response of the Wizarding World. She could see the wedding band on young Harry's finger and couldn't really understand how they could have married off such a young boy. And if Hermione was to be believed he was married to a man of all things -- one of their professors. She didn't think she liked that idea in the slightest. She rather hoped she had misunderstood the story.

"That depends on what law you are talking about," Arthur told her. "If it concerns a wizard, then Wizarding law takes precedence. You can't expect Muggle authorities to apprehend a Wizarding criminal. It wouldn't be possible in most cases. And Muggle prisons certainly couldn't hold a wizard or witch for long."

"But who is in charge?" Michael asked in confusion. Her husband had always preferred things to be straightforward and well-organized, something her daughter had inherited. "I mean, I know you have a Minister of Magic, but doesn't he answer ultimately to the Prime Minister and Parliament?"

"Ah, I see where you might be confused," Arthur nodded, though he glanced over to Remus as if deferring to the former professor. "While I work for the Ministry, I'm afraid I don't truly know a lot about the Muggle government."

"You are laboring under the misunderstanding that Wizarding Great Britain is the same nation as Muggle Great Britain," Remus explained. "It's not."

Anna noted that Harry looked surprised at that statement as well. "It's not?" he asked in confusion.

Hermione just shook her head. "Honestly, Harry, don't you ever pay attention in Professor Binn's class?"

"Nobody pays attention in Professor Binn's class," Harry protested. "The only time something interesting happens there is when he forgets where he is and starts drifting through the floor."

Anna found herself shuddering at that. Professor Binn was the ghost professor Hermione had told her about -- magic was one thing, but the very idea of ghosts gave her the shivers. She couldn't imagine her daughter being taught by a man long dead.

"Do you mean to say that Wizarding Great Britain is not part of our nation?" Michael pressed.

Remus leaned forward, appearing to move into a lecture mode. Anna noticed Sirius' eyes lighting up with sudden interest, and she couldn't help wonder at the relationship between the two men. They were sitting awfully close together on the couch, though there was room enough to spread out.

"Despite the fact that Great Britain as you understand it has been around a very long time, the government that rules over it is really quite young," Remus informed him. Michael frowned in confusion. "I mean to say that it wasn't that long ago that you were ruled by your monarchy."

Michael nodded, as if conceding the point, though Anna wasn't certain what Remus might have meant by 'not that long ago'. Seemed a goodly time to her.

"But our society with its current form of government here in Great Britain has been around for a long time. We consider our 'modern' form of government to have been ratified by Merlin over 1500 years ago. But prior to that our society had thrived virtually unchanged here on the British Isles for several thousand years."

"The same government?" Michael asked in shock as if the very idea was inconceivable.

Remus nodded. "It goes back farther than that. You have to understand that you as Muggles are ultimately ruled by a set of laws you have written down on paper. While those laws have some basic universal truths backing them, they are still just words on paper. They are subject to interpretation and can be changed or broken depending on who is in power. The Wizarding World however is governed by a set of laws that are backed by magic. They cannot be changed, they cannot be interpreted, and they cannot be ignored. These laws have been ruling our society since long before the Great Pyramids in Egypt were ever constructed."

Michael frowned at that. "I don't understand. Which laws are you talking about here? Certainly not apparation laws or age limits for magic use."

"No, of course not," Remus laughed. "These laws are deeper and more esoteric. For example, the Universe has a dual nature that cannot be ignored. For every good there is an evil, for every life there is a death."

"For every action there is a reaction," Michael nodded in understanding. "But that's just basic physics. It's not a form of government."

"It is to us," Remus explained. "That duality affects our lives in a very fundamental way that can not be denied. For example, we know that for every soul that exist in the world there is a soul mate for it. If these two souls somehow miraculous manage to find each other in life, we know that we cannot pull them apart. To do so causes chaos. It can bring about great pain and mischief which ultimately diminishes our society. Consequently our marriage laws are much different than those of the Muggle world."

"Is that why you were able to marry Harry to another man?" Anna asked in surprise.

As Remus nodded, Harry blanched in shock and looked sharply at the werewolf. "The Marriage Stone! Does it find soul mates?"

Again Remus nodded, "That is its purpose."

"Snape!" Harry exclaimed in stunned amazement looking shocked beyond words -- Anna remembered that Snape was the name of the man he had married.

Sirius reached over quickly and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Harry, relax. Soul mates have nothing to do with all that romantic twaddle you might read about in Muggle Romance novels. It has to do with magical resonances and how your magic reacts to one another. Not to mention the archetypal natures of your individual psyches and how they mesh together. Siblings can be soul mates without there ever being any form of romance between them."

Harry seemed to calm down at that but still looked somewhat disturbed by the notion.

"Alright," Michael proceeded. "You have these ancient laws that govern your society -- who interprets them ultimately. It sounds like all the Wizarding World would be subjected to them regardless of what country they belonged to."

"Right," Remus agreed. "But the laws are not interpreted, merely enforced, and that is done by a group that has been called many things over the years -- the High Council, the Circle of Elders, the Illuminati, the Magi. The various ministries currently call them the International Confederation of Sorcerers."

"That's on Professor Dumbledore's letter head!" Ron exclaimed, looking happy to be able to point something out.

Again Remus nodded. "Yes, Albus is a member," he agreed. "The confederation is made up of the most powerful and eldest families in the Wizarding World. They are ultimately the final authority in our society."

"If that's the case then why does the Headmaster have to do what the Minister of Magic and the board of Governors tells him to do?" Ron protested.

"Because Albus would never dream of interfering with the day-to-day governing of a single nation," Remus explained. "The Confederation has very little to do with the daily running of the world. In fact decades might pass with out a single meeting of the members. Instead, each nation is governed on a daily bases by their version of the Ministry of Magic, and those Wizarding forms of government are sovereign unto themselves and have nothing to do with the Muggle world."

"Do they at least recognize the same national boundaries of the Muggle World," Michael wanted to know, looking quite shocked by the idea. Anna had noticed that while Harry looked completely flummoxed by the idea, Hermione appeared to understand all this already.

"Oh, Merlin, no," Remus laughed. "I mean for one thing did you know that in the Wizarding World England has six whole counties that Muggles have never even seen before?"

"What!" both Anna and Michael exclaimed.

"Wizarding France is still ruled by a monarchy -- they missed the whole Revolution. By the time they got around to noticing that Muggles were running around lopping off each other's heads, they had already washed their hands of the Muggle world and retreated into unplottable provinces. Wizarding Russia and China not only missed the advent of communism, they never even defied their national borders along the same lines. That entire section of the world is broken up into hundreds of small kingdoms that are ruled over by various warlords and conquerors. The descendants of Attila the Hun still control large sections of the land."

"Wizarding Egypt still has a pharaoh," Bill added helpfully.

"And Wizarding India is ruled by a family of Rakshashas-- a creature that is part human part tiger," Charlie added. "And various leaders in parts of Asia claim to have dragon blood in them."

"And then there's the Americas," Remus continued. "Our history here in Britain is filled with stories going back thousands of years about magical people sailing away into the west in search of a mythical haven. By the time the Muggle Columbus had reached the American shores, wizards had been living in America for thousands of years. The current Muggle government there is aware of the Wizarding World, but they have very little interaction with them. One of their founders, Benjamin Franklin arranged a treaty with them, but it largely consisted of 'don't bother us and we won't bother you'."

"Man, I've really got to start paying more attention in History class," Harry muttered.

"Finally!" Hermione exclaimed, and her exasperation caused everyone to laugh.

They talked a great deal longer about the intricacies of the Wizarding World. Eventually Anna asked the question that had been weighing most heavily on her mind. "And how does the Dark Lord and his followers ultimately fit into the various Wizarding governments? What is his ultimate goal?"

All of them looked uncomfortable at that, seeming uncertain how to answer. Surprisingly it was Harry who spoke up. "Voldemort wants to rule the world -- all the world regardless of whether or not it is Wizarding or Muggle."

Both his use of the forbidden name and the description of what he wanted to do made the Weasleys all shudder.

"And the Muggle world can do nothing at all to stop him?" Michael asked, wanting to confirm what they both feared. They had been reading about various unexplained deaths in newspapers for over a year now -- they had long suspected they were the work of Death Eaters despite the papers saying they were unknown terrorists.

"Voldemort doesn't believe that even the Wizarding World can do anything to stop him," Harry added.

"Can the Wizarding World stop them?" Michael asked fearfully. At that Harry smiled sadly and turned away. Sirius reached out again and took the boy's hand.

"We'll all certainly try our best," Sirius informed them, sounding very resolved in his response. At that Remus and several others all reached over and patted Harry on the shoulder as if offering him silent support. Hermione, Anna noticed, was one of the first to do so and she felt her heart break at the gesture. She understood what they all meant -- for whatever reason the Wizarding World expected this boy to stop Voldemort, and his friends and family all knew it. Anna could not imagine such pressure; she could only pray that the boy was up to the task. That somehow he might manage to save at least one of their worlds.

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Author's Note: As far as I know Mr. and Mrs. Granger were never given first names, so I've names them Anna and Michael. Since I knew this chapter would be almost nothing but exposition I thought it would be fun to see the whole thing through the eyes of two outsiders.

Now, how many of you think that the soul-mate relationship between Harry and Severus will be of the sibling variety? Sirius is of course hopeful, but I think Harry is starting to realize things are different than he suspected.

Severus shows up in the next chapter -- and I wanted to mention something about the sleeping arrangements since so many people asked me about it. Molly put Harry in with Ron since Harry was there long before Severus shows up. Let's face it, Harry is really there to spend time with his friends so why wouldn't he stay with Ron.

But she intends to put Severus into Percy's room -- alone. Everyone else is sharing a room -- but not Snape. Molly is actually being rather sly here -- she knows exactly why Harry and Severus got married to begin with. And she's not about to ask how their relationship has evolved. By putting Snape in a room alone, she's leaving the decision entirely up to Snape and Harry. Harry can move rooms for that one night if he wishes -- or he can stay with Ron without anyone making a fuss one way or another.


	25. Chapter 25 Christmas Eve

Chapter 25 Christmas Eve

Harry spent most of Christmas Eve with Ron and Hermione playing various games both Muggle and Wizarding. The promised snowstorm had blown in with a bang and it was far too cold to go outside. Nevertheless the day seemed to be flying by.

He'd enjoyed getting to know the Granger at last. Having been raised as a Muggle he understood the cultural shock they were going through, and both he and Hermione had a wonderful time introducing them to some of amenities of the Wizarding World. Even something as simple as lighting their bedroom when they had gone up to bed had proven daunting to them since they had no idea what to do without the presence of a light switch.

Hermione had given them several small floating Wizarding lights so that they wouldn't have to worry about the candles. She then used a charm to rig them to turn on and off automatically whenever one of the Granger's clapped their hands. That idea sent both the Grangers and Harry into fits of giggles while the rest of the household looked on in confusion.

"It's a Muggle thing," Harry had simply told them, not certain he wanted to go into an explanation of how the Muggle "Clapper" worked. Arthur would be far too keen on acquiring one for himself.

He'd also enjoyed the History lesson the night before, though it had been somewhat disturbing to discover that Snape was in fact his 'soul mate'. They hardly got along the way soul mates did in all those silly romance novels his aunt used to rave about. He was fairly certain that he did not truly understand the concept. Still he had learned more from Remus the previous evening than he had in the all the years in Professor Binn's class. He wondered if Remus would ever be allowed to return to teaching at Hogwarts. He was a natural at it, and seemed to love doing it.

By late afternoon he found himself staring somewhat anxiously out the front window at the road beyond.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Ron asked from the couch where he was currently trouncing Sirius in a game of Wizarding Chess.

"Severus promised he'd come today," Harry explained. "I thought he'd be here by now." It was already growing dark and he was concerned that the man might have forgotten his promise. He was surprisingly eager to see the man -- found that despite all the fun he'd had, he missed his sarcastic humor.

"Snape's coming?" Sirius exclaimed, looking horrified at the though. Harry turned around and glared at his godfather.

"I told you he was," he reminded him.

"I thought you were joking," Sirius grumbled. "Just what we all need -- Ebenezer Scrooge to brighten up our lives."

"Padfoot, you promised you'd behave," Remus, who was just entered the room from the kitchen, reminded him.

"Did I?' Sirius asked doubtfully. "That doesn't sound like something I'd do. Are you sure?"

"Yes," Remus stated emphatically. "If I remember correctly you said something along the lines of 'I promise I'll be nice to Snape if you let me sleep on the bed'."

His words were rather unexpected, and both Ron and Harry nearly choked on the startled laughter. Sirius on the other hand looked quite put out by the statement, much to Harry's surprise. "Yeah, but I didn't mean for you to sleep on the couch instead," he grumbled, which just made Harry snicker all the louder.

Remus just shrugged as he sat down in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. "You didn't clarify. And a promise is a promise."

"Fine," Sirius huffed as he moved his queen across the chessboard, only to have Ron's bishop smash her to pieces on the next move. "Oh, see now I've lost the game because of Snape!" he exclaimed.

"You were losing the game before Snape was ever mentioned," Ron pointed out. "You're a terrible player."

"I'm a very good player," Sirius argued. "I just don't play well like this."

"Like what?" Ron asked bewilderedly.

"Thinking about all the moves," Sirius explained. "I prefer the one second rule."

"One second rule?" Ron frowned over at Harry who just shrugged. Remus chuckled and shook his head.

"One second between moves," Sirius told him. "If you don't move your piece inside that one second you forfeit your move and your opponent gets to go again."

"But that's . . . that's. . . ." Ron stared down at the chessboard in something akin to horror. "How can you plan anything like that?"

"You can't," Sirius grinned. "You just have to go with your gut instinct. It makes the games a lot more interesting."

"I've never heard of anything so silly," Ron huffed.

Remus chuckled. "Albus attempted to get the different houses to play chess together in the evenings when we were in school. Unfortunately forcing a Gryffindor and Slytherin to sit in silence for a long period of time while playing a game proved to be damn near impossible. About five minutes into the games Sirius or James or Severus or Lucius Malfoy would inevitably blow a fuse and the evening would end in bloodshed. That's when Sirius came up with the one second rule -- the games were over before that five minute window passed and we all stopped the endless streams of detentions Professor McGonagall was giving us."

"Who usually won?" Harry asked curiously. Somehow he was having a hard time picturing Sirius playing chess against Lucius Malfoy.

"Actually they were all pretty well matched," Remus said thoughtfully. "But inevitably Peter ended up winning more matches than anyone else. He was remarkably quick when it came to thinking on his feet."

"That little rat," Sirius growled, his features darkening with the reminder of their one time friend. "I should have realized there was something wrong with him back then."

To that, Remus had no response.

The crackle of magic sounded sharply outside as someone Apparated just outside the wards to the Burrow. Harry immediately turned to look out the window and saw a tall dark figure just outside the gate that led up the road to the house. He knew immediately by the stance and the long striding walk the figure took up the walkway that it was Snape.

Grinning, Harry leaped up from his seat and ran to the front door, throwing it open. As the warm light from the house spilled out into the icy winter darkness, Severus looked up in surprise, as if startled to be greeted so openly by anyone.

Harry just smiled at him, taking in his appearance with more appreciation than he had expected. For once the man was not wearing his traditional black robes. He was dressed more like he had been the night they had gone to Briarwood Hall for dinner -- leather pants and boots, a white shirt with a dark, wine-colored doublet, and a matching cloak that was lined with silver fur. Harry took a point of noticing that his hair was clean and wild-looking -- one compliment and he had never gone back to his former style much to Harry's delight. The last time someone had sullenly referred to him as the 'greasy git' Harry had taken pains to point out that he was far from greasy looking these days. Indeed, while he was not what one would traditionally call handsome, Harry thought he was at least dashing looking. Though the idea that he was even remotely interested in his bond-mate's appearance disturbed him on levels he didn't want to explore.

"Happy Christmas!" he greeted as Severus made his way onto the porch.

He saw Snape's gaze rake over him, moving swiftly from head to toe. "Happy Christmas," he greeted mildly, though there was warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there last time Harry had spoken to him. "I see you are still in one piece."

"Yep," Harry agreed impishly. "I've limited myself to five death defying acts a day just to make you happy."

"Only five?" Severus mused. "I'm touched. I can't even begin to imagine the boredom you must be suffering."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's been difficult. But Mrs. Weasley assures me that it builds character."

He could see the humor gleaming in Severus' eyes. "Character? Is that what it's called these days? When I was your age I believed it was referred to as idiocy."

Harry just shrugged happily. "Oh, you know young people these days. No respect for the English language."

At that moment Molly Weasley appeared beside Harry, smiling warmly at the man on her doorstep. "Severus! Welcome. Come in out of the cold."

"Thank you, Molly," Severus nodded as he entered the Burrow for the first time. Harry noticed a small trunk floating calmly behind him. Molly immediately flicked her wand and sent it dancing up the stairs to Percy's room. There was a yelp of surprise as someone barely managed to dodge out of its way.

The others came in then to greet Snape. Arthur and Remus were openly genuine in their welcome, and both Bill and Charlie came forward to shake his hand politely. Percy positively gushed as he welcomed him to the Burrow, remarking that Severus had always been one of his most favorite teachers. Ron, the twins and Ginny just looked at their elder brother with baffled looks of horror on their faces.

Sirius and Severus nodded to each other in acknowledgement, but didn't exchange a greeting beyond that. Still it was better that open bloodshed, Harry mused. The Grangers were both polite but somewhat awkward in their greeting, and Harry knew they were still trying to deal with the fact that one of their daughter's friends had been forcibly married off to this man only a few months earlier. It was obvious that they didn't know what to expect from him -- certainly Hermione's descriptions of him from prior years did little to put their minds at ease over what sort of person he might be.

Throughout it all Severus was surprisingly polite -- for him anyway. He refrained from openly insulting anyone, and was remarkably gracious to both Molly and Arthur. Indeed he had brought a host gift for the two of them -- a bottle of wine which Arthur particularly had exclaimed over. From Arthur's reaction and Sirius raised eyebrow (a sign that he was impressed but not going to admit it) Harry gathered that the wine was some rare vintage that the Weasley family were not likely to see often.

Christmas Eve dinner was a lively affair with sixteen people crowded around the dinner table. It was exactly what Harry had always imagined a large family Christmas would be like, and he knew he spent most of the evening grinning somewhat foolishly at all the people around him. The twins, having discovered that Sirius and Remus were in fact the infamous Marauders spent most of the evening exchanging pranks with them, though thankfully they were under strict orders from Molly to confine their jokes to the four of them. The rest of the guest were spared, and were able to enjoy the results all the more. Seeing both Sirius and Remus with pink hair while the twins sported feathers on their heads and long, odd looking donkey ears made Harry laugh until his sides hurt. Luckily all four of them were rather good-natured about the whole thing, though the Grangers didn't appear to know what to think.

Conversations after dinner were just as interesting as well. From what Harry had figured out from Wizarding society, Severus did not move in the same social circles as the Weasleys. Neither did Sirius for that matter, but his status as a wanted criminal currently altered his situation. As such Arthur seemed quite eager to talk to Severus about various political topics currently considered hot by the Ministry. It seemed that the Snape family had a say in who became the next Minister of Magic.

Harry interrupted at that, confused by the inference, as were the Grangers. "I thought the Minister of Magic was voted into office," he stated. "Isn't that what all this nonsense about trying to adopt me was all about? Fudge was trying to curry votes."

"He is voted into office," Remus agreed. "Or rather someone will be when the next election rolls around." He'd already been told that the next election was nearly a year away -- Halloween of the following year. Harry thought it was awfully early in the season for any of the candidates to be campaigning so hard. He'd been under the impression that the election was imminent. But as was so often the case, things were done differently in the Wizarding World.

"It's one of the reasons people are campaigning so early, Harry," Remus continued. "If it were simply a matter of one person, one vote, things would be a bit simpler. But we aren't a democracy as the Muggles understand it."

"You mean not all your citizens get to vote?" Michael looked shocked at the idea.

"Not all of our citizens should vote," Severus informed him. "Take Giants for example -- most of them are not even capable of writing their own names. Should they be required to understand the intricacies of an election? Or what about the entire Veela nation -- by law our elections must occur on the night of Samhain, but all full-blooded Veela go into heat on that night. They would not be capable of casting a vote."

Harry found himself blushing at the idea of anyone going into heat and glanced over at Bill. Seeing his gaze Bill just shook his head. "She's only half Veela," he assured him. "Consequently the Delecour family gets to cast a vote for a very large group of people."

"Votes are cast by heads of family," Remus told them. "A single family gets a certain number of votes depending on their land holdings, their magical powers, and the number of their vassals under them. So one of the things the various candidates for Minister are doing is attempting to influence the alliances between the lesser families. If they can move the vassals from one family holding to another they can influence the number of votes being cast in their favor. As near as I know the Snapes have a total of forty-three votes they get to cast in this election."

"Forty-seven," Severus corrected. "We acquired the Mirwanden vote when my brother's son was born -- he's the only male heir to his mother's family line." He glanced at Harry. "Julliana," he explained, reminding Harry of Claudius Snape's ditsy wife.

"What about the rest of you?" Michael asked curiously. "Do you all have votes?"

Arthur laughed at that. "While my family is an old name, we don't have much land to our name. For the last fifty years we've been allied with the Dumbledore family -- our vote goes as Albus sees fit to cast it. "

"I'm the last of my line and my family were neither pure blooded nor landed," Remus explained. "I have no vote at all. Nor any value as a vassal." Harry frowned uncomfortably at that, not certain he liked hearing Remus refer to himself in such a manner.

"What about you?" Michael asked Sirius -- his curiosity about the rather infamous criminal had been apparent the last few days.

Sirius frowned. "The Black family has forty-one votes, but unfortunately while I've been locked up in Azkaban my cousin Narcissa Malfoy has been casting my votes along with a few others that should not by rights be hers. It's given the Malfoys an unfair advantage over all the other families. Lucius has forty-nine votes to his name. Add all the others that Narcissa has been claiming, and they have become one of the most powerful families around. That is why the Ministry is so quick to look the other way when Lucius does something wrong."

"But isn't he a Death Eater?" Anna exclaimed in horror. "Are you saying that the Death Eaters get a say in who is elected Minister?"

Severus nodded. "The Zabinis, the Averys, the Notts, the Crabbes, the Goyles and the Lestranges are all supporters of the Dark Lord, and each of them have numerous votes to cast."

"Even still?" Harry asked curiously. Mr. Crabbe and Goyle were both dead, and Mr. Zabini was locked up in Azkaban.

"Crabbe's and Goyle's wives will cast their votes, and Blaise Zabini will cast his father's vote," Severus nodded.

"What about Muggleborn?" Hermione broke in. "If Muggleborns are new to the Wizarding World, how do they get a vote?"

"They don't," Severus said simply, raising one dark eyebrow. "Perhaps you can see why there is such conflict over the issue between Muggleborns and purebloods. It's very easy for purebloods to pass legislation against them -- those that disagree with such prejudices generally have a war on their hands to prevent such laws. It's one of the reasons why we are at war now."

"So there's absolutely no way for a Muggleborn to gain a vote?" Hermione huffed.

"Of course there's a way," Severus informed her. "It just doesn't happen very often. I told you, votes come from land holdings, magical powers, or vassals. If a Muggleborn can acquire either land holdings or vassals they automatically get a vote. Baring that, if a Muggleborn reaches a certain level of magical power they are automatically granted by a vote by Magical Acknowledgement of the Wisengamut. But that does not happen very often. When you come of age you can petition for a vote -- and I would guess you'll probably get it. But one vote alone has very little sway in the political arena -- you would be better suited to choose a family to align yourself with and add your vote to theirs."

Despite his words, Harry could see something rather calculating in Hermione's eyes and he couldn't help wondering if they were going to see the emergence of a new organization like S.P.E.W. in the near future.

Something suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute," Harry cut in. "What about me? Does my family have any sort of a vote?"

"The Potters had thirty-three votes," Sirius informed him. "Unfortunately while you were underage, those votes should have been mine as your god father -- but once again went to Narcissa Malfoy."

"The Malfoys have been casting my votes?" Harry was incensed at the idea. "They help Voldemort murder my parents and then get to claim my father's votes after he's dead?"

Sirius nodded, a pained look on his face.

"Do they still get them?" Harry demanded turning toward Snape.

"No," he quickly assured him. "You're considered an adult now. The votes are yours."

"Mine or yours?" he asked for clarification wondering if Snape was considered the head of his household.

"If you are asking if I get to cast your votes for you, the answer is no," he replied. "The Potter line is a sovereign one and is considered equal to the Snapes. We have what is viewed as an alliance and everyone will expect us to vote the same way. But you could technically vote against me if you wished. However, if we are to have a single heir between us, then he or she would gain both sets of votes when we die."

"A single heir?" Harry blanched for a moment and looked at Hermione with a sudden horrifying thought. Hermione, well used to his questions, just looked at him disbelief.

"Don't be an idiot, Harry," she exclaimed and reached over and whapped him upside the head. A wave of relief washed over him, and the twins began roaring with laughter, the only two people besides Hermione who had figured out what direction his thoughts had gone. All the other stared in confusion. Finally Fred took pity on them.

"Harry was afraid you were about to inform him that wizards can get pregnant."

That set the others off immediately, Ron and Sirius in particular falling out of their seats they were laughing so hard. Severus just rolled his eyes and sent a disbelieving stare at Harry. "Designating an heir is not something you should be worrying about right now," he informed Harry quietly below the laughter. Harry just nodded in relief.

"What about Sirius' vote then," Harry asked once the laughter had died down. "Since he's my godfather can I claim his vote until he's been cleared by the Ministry? I don't like the idea of the Malfoys having anything to do with us."

"That's not a bad idea," Sirius agreed thoughtfully. He glanced at Snape. "It's a legitimate claim, especially since he's a legal adult now. He's already my designated heir. All you'd have to do is get my will from Gringotts to prove it. He'd need to file the appropriate documents with the Ministry, but I'm sure you can help him with that. It would substantially weaken the Malfoys."

Severus nodded. "I'll speak with Albus about it when I return to Hogwarts."

They spoke a while longer about the political climate in Wizarding Britain, but eventually Molly ushered them all off to bed for the night. Harry felt a moment of uncertainty as he followed Ron into his bedroom -- he couldn't help wonder if he was expected by anyone to sleep in Percy's room with Severus now that he was in the house. But no one said anything to him as he bid them all good night. He had to put up with a bit of ribbing from Ron over the idea that wizards could get pregnant as they settled down for the night. Ron fell silent for a while but Harry could tell he was not asleep.

"Harry?" he asked hesitantly. Harry rolled over in the dark so that he could stare across the room at Ron. Without his glasses on Ron was little more than a dark blob to him. "You do know about that sort of thing, right?" Ron asked.

"What sort of thing?" Harry frowned.

"You know . . ." Ron shifted in his bed as if he were uncomfortable. "Sex," he finally whispered. That he had said the word at all was surprising -- Harry had come to the conclusion that the Wizarding World was a great deal more prudish than the Muggle world when in came to such discussions.

"Oh," Harry replied uncomfortably. Truthfully, he didn't know much about it. He'd figured out the basics from the few glimpses he'd been allowed to see of Muggle Television. And there was a lot one could pick up from inferences just by listening to the other boys talk. But if Ron was asking if he'd ever actually been sat down and told about such things -- then the answer was no. The closest he'd ever come to such a conversation was the day his Aunt Petunia had found Dudley touching himself in the bathroom. For whatever reason, instead of punishing Dudley, she'd beaten Harry with a wooden cooking spoon until his back was black and blue with marks. Though he had only been ten at the time, he'd been given to understand that such behavior in Dudley had been caused because Harry was a freak. He'd since figured out the truth, but not because anyone had ever explained it to him.

"Mom and Dad did the whole 'talk' thing with me," Ron explained. "Which was bloody awful let me tell you. But afterwards Bill and Charlie cleared every thing up. Brothers are good for some things."

He'd heard about the 'talk'. Apparently it was something that all children experienced with their parents at some point in time. He had never been subjected to it of course.

"Did anyone ever give you the talk?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"No," Harry admitted. "But I figured it out for myself -- the basics anyway."

Even in the dark he could tell Ron was frowning. "Then how come you thought it might be possible for wizards to get pregnant?"

Harry felt himself flushing at that. It occurred to him suddenly that if Ron, who wasn't always the quickest person around, had wondered that, no doubt every single person in the room tonight were wondering the same thing by now.

"Okay, so maybe I don't know everything," Harry mumbled. "I'm going to be tormented the next few days aren't I? Everyone is going to want to have this talk with me."

Ron was silent for a few moments as if trying to decide how to answer. "Probably," he agreed.

"Great," Harry sighed.

"Who'd you prefer?" Ron asked. "I can ask Bill or Charlie if you'd like. Or if you want I can tell you -- though to be honest with you I don't know about . . . well, you know. . ."

But Harry didn't know. "What?"

"You know," Ron said, obviously embarrassed. "Two guys."

Two guys? It took Harry a moment to figure out that he was in fact talking about him and Snape. "Oh," he said with some surprise. "Do you think that I'm . . ." he had no idea what the Wizarding word for gay was, but obvious Ron caught the inference.

"Well, whether you are not, Harry, the fact is you're married to a man."

"Yeah, but we're not. . .I mean we don't. . ." Harry broke off, not certain how to finish that sentence.

"Yeah, but sooner or later, don't you think that. . ." Ron broke off, and Harry wasn't certain how he had intended to finish that conversation. Did he mean to say that sooner or later he expected Harry would want something intimate from Snape, or that sooner or later Snape would expect Harry to act more like a spouse was supposed to? He got the impression from the nasty comments from the Slytherin students, not to mention Minister Fudge's and Julius' accusation that Snape actually had the right to demand such things from him. Harry had just assumed that he never would.

Then there was also the issue of Sonara Sinistra. Harry had finally come to the conclusion that he didn't like the idea of infidelity in a marriage -- even one as bizarre as his. But if that was the case didn't that mean that sooner or later, deep down, he expected things to change between him and Snape? Surely he didn't expect to live his entire life in celibacy -- and he could hardly expect Snape to.

"Huh," Harry stated, feeling somewhat stumped at the thought. "I never thought about that."

"That's kind of what I figured," Ron sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now," Harry told him. "Let me think about it for a while, okay."

"No problem," Ron assured him, and he sounded vaguely relieved. "But just so you know, Charlie is a good one to talk to. He won't tease you or anything -- Bill on the other hand is liable to show you visual aids in the form of shadow puppets -- and that's just not right."

It took Harry a long time to stop snickering before he fell to sleep.

--------------------

Author's Note: I'd thought about the whole 'talk' thing with regards to this story's version of Harry. If you were raised in social isolation like Harry, never allowed to have friends, never allowed to watch TV or listen to the radio, never allowed to buy your own books or magazines or even read the family newspaper -- how would you learn the facts of life? Certainly the Dursleys weren't going to explain them to Harry -- and after the incident with Dudley Harry would likely be wary of the topic anyway -- certainly too wary to ever ask questions.

That would leave the school system to give him the facts -- and Harry left the Muggle school system at age 11. In my school we didn't watch our 'facts of life' videos until we were 12 years old. Harry would have missed them in primary school -- and since this Wizarding World of mine is a bit more old-fashioned, I doubt very much they had such a class for Harry to attend. That would mean everything he's figured out more likely than not came from listening to Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ron joking around in the dorm room -- and just how accurate do you suppose their information might be? Ron got all flustered when Hermione referred to Sinistra as a 'slut'.

But for those of you who want my romance to speed up -- at least Harry has now thought of Sex and Severus in the same breath.

Next up -- Christmas Day. What sorts of presents will everyone receive?


	26. Chapter 26 Christmas Presents

Chapter 26 Christmas Presents

Christmas morning in the Weasley home was a study in chaos. Though the Weasleys were not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, there were plenty of presents to go around -- including a Weasley jumper for everyone there. Seeing Severus and Sirius in matching blue jumpers, each with a red 'S' on their chest was just about the funniest thing Harry had ever imagined. Ron and Remus also matched with their bright Maroon 'R's.

Sirius had also taken great pains to find gifts for all of the Weasley children -- and though Harry suspected Bill and Charlie, who weren't that much younger than Sirius, were embarrassed to be lumped into the 'child' description, they were delighted with the long slender swords they had been given. Remembering the conversation about pureblood families and swords, Harry glanced at Arthur Weasley. The man looked somewhat sad to see the swords in his sons' hands, but he nodded his thanks to Sirius. They were at war and though Arthur didn't want to admit it, as members of the Order of the Phoenix, his sons would be on the front lines. Sirius clapped Arthur on the shoulder in sympathy, but nothing more was said.

To Harry's surprise Severus had brought gifts for everyone as well. They came mostly in the forms of expensive books that he knew the Weasley family could not possibly afford, though for Fred and George he had purchased potion ingredients that they had gone apes over. While they had been lousy potions students due to their pranks, they were actually excellent potion makers. Their prank products required a degree of skill that Severus obvious recognized.

He had also purchased a book on the History of the Wizarding World for the Grangers -- something they were obviously delighted over after the nature of the conversations they had been having the last couple of nights. To Harry's amazement, Severus also had a gift for both Remus and Sirius. It was an old book bound up in leather. Harry was rather stunned that he was giving his godfather anything, but as Severus handed it across to Sirius, he saw his godfather handing a similar book over to Severus.

Seeing the look of disbelief on Harry's face, Sirius just smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "They're family lineage books," he explained. "They are something we should have exchanged before the two of you were ever bonded. It's a very old tradition. I'll show it to you later if you'd like."

Harry just nodded, guessing that this was yet another custom he knew nothing about.

Harry was delighted with the new broom he'd gotten from Sirius and Remus, both with the broom itself as well as the fact that both men's names were on the card, as if they were already together. His firebolt had been damaged the day he'd taken the Eye of Odin from Voldemort's hand, and though it was still useable, it wasn't as maneuverable as it once was.

He was sitting on the floor along with Ron, Hermione and Ginny admiring the broom when Severus tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He was a bit surprised when Severus handed him a very small, neatly wrapped box a few moments later. He had expected a book like Ron and Hermione had gotten from the Potions Master. He opened the box curiously. Inside was a potion vial. Taking it out, he read the label out loud. "Oculus Reparium Infinitas."

There were several startled gasps at the name, and Harry frowned as he glanced around. Even Sirius looked both surprised and impressed. "Isn't that the spell you use to repair my glasses, Hermione?" Harry asked.

But Hermione shook her head. "No, that's Oculus Reparo. What you've got in your hand is like a thousand times better than Lazic Surgery or the Eye Sight Repairing charm."

That caught the attention of the two Grangers, but the others didn't catch the reference. "What's Lazic Surgery?" Ron wanted to know.

"It's a Muggle procedure that corrects bad eye sight," Hermione explained. "They use lasers to reshape your eye, but it doesn't always work and it has about a two week recovery period. Furthermore, your eyes sight will proceeded to deteriorate again over the years." She glanced at her parents. "And the charm only fixes your eyes for the day -- kind of like the equivalent of contact lenses."

"What does this do?" Harry wanted to know.

"That fixes your eyes, permanently, dear, for the rest of your life," Molly informed him. She glanced at Severus. "I'd venture to guess there aren't more than ten Masters in the whole world who can make that potion."

Harry glanced up at Severus in amazement. He just smirked at him, and motioned to the bottle in his hand. "Well, go on, drink it."

Harry didn't have to be told twice. He carefully worked the stopper free and then raised the bottle to his lips, drinking the contents down quickly. It tasted remarkably like very strong vinegar and he made a grimace of disgust as it slid down his throat, his eyes stinging from the strong fumes. Blinking quickly to clear his eyes from the tears the fumes caused he was immediately aware of the fact that the entire room had gone blurry. Very blurry.

He frowned in confusion, thinking perhaps something had gone wrong. "But everything's blurry!" he protested.

"Gryffindors," Severus just sighed and leaned forward, gently plucking the glasses off Harry's face. Instantly the room sprang into focus with a clarity Harry had never experienced before. He'd had the same glasses since he was ten years old, and they had never corrected his eyesight the way they should have. To see everything now with perfect visions was like gaining an entirely new sense. His amazement must have been visible to everyone in the room.

"You okay, Harry?" Sirius asked in concern.

"Is this how all of you see all the time?" he asked in disbelief. He could see flecks of silver in Ron's blue eyes, and strands of soft red in Hermione's brown hair. And Sirius had several pale freckles on his nose, and Remus a faint scar just below his bottom lip. And Severus -- his eyes really were the most extraordinary shade of black. "Thank you," he told the man, moved beyond words by the gift he'd been given. Until this moment he hadn't realized just how bad his eyesight had truly been.

Severus just nodded to him, his eyes gleaming brightly. "You're welcome," he said softly.

There were other gifts passed around -- including several dresses from the Grangers to Hermione and Ginny, which Ginny had squealed over. While the girls were trying on their clothes, Harry got up and retrieved two packages that he'd hidden under the large tree when he'd first arrived. He handed one of them to Sirius and watched in silence at the man opened it.

The look of shock on Sirius's face when he pulled out the snow globe said more than all the words in the world. For a moment Sirius looked as if he were about to cry, one hand moving to cover his mouth as if holding back a sob. When he finally was capable again of reacting he reached out and pulled Harry into his arms, the snow globe clutched tightly in one hand.

"Where did you find this?" he asked, and the tears were very obvious in his voice.

"In my vault," Harry told him. "When I saw what was written on the bottom, I thought you might like to have it back."

"Are you sure you want to give this to me, Harry?" he asked hesitantly.

"What is it?" Remus asked curiously. They had caught the attention of most of the people in the room, though the others were trying politely not to eaves-drop on the obviously emotional experience for the man.

Sirius handed the snow globe to Remus, who took it carefully in his hands. It wasn't a particularly fancy snow globe -- rather oddly made for a Wizarding item. It showed a house which looked like it was made out of candy. And standing in front of the house were the shapes of two boys though they were little more than stick figures. The entire thing was encased in a crystal ball of glass that was mounted on a uneven wooden stand. But unlike Muggle snow globes, this one was not filled with water -- rather there was a charm on it which set the shredded bits of paper snow swirling continuously around the scene whether you were shaking the ball or not. Despite the magic spell on it, the entire thing looked as if it had been made by amateur hands. As Remus turned the globe over and saw what was written on the bottom, he caught his breath in surprise. "Siri and Jamie, age 7," he read. He looked at Sirius questioningly. "You made this?"

Sirius nodded. "James and I met for the first time at a summer camp when we were seven years old. That was our art project. I had no idea he'd kept it all these years." He turned to Harry. "Are you sure you want to give this to me? You don't own many things belonging to your father."

But Harry just smiled at him and shook his head. "I have his two best friends. What more could I want?" Both men hugged him again, obviously moved. When they released him at last, Harry glanced down at the last package in his hand. It was small, and book shaped. "I have a gift for you too Remus, but. . ." He glanced over at Severus who had been watching their exchange in silence. While Severus might not have liked James Potter, he knew any reminder of that fact would not have been welcome or appropriate at the moment. "It's sort of part of Severus' gift."

All three men looked perplexed by that statement, none of them understanding what Harry could possibly imagine a gift to be that Severus and Remus might share. He just shrugged. "You'll see," he said as he handed the wrapped package across to Severus.

Frowning in confusion, Severus took the gift from him and carefully unwrapped it, everyone else in the room now watching the proceedings in curious silence. As predicted, Severus unwrapped a small thin book. There was no writing on the outside of it, so he opened it up to the first page, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the handwriting inside. "This is your handwriting," he stated. "You wrote a book?"

"No," Harry said quietly and waited.

Severus gasped suddenly, his entire body stiffening as he read the first few lines written there. His hands were shaking as he looked up and pinned Harry with his stare. "Harry, what is this?" he whispered in the silence that had fallen over the room.

Harry settled back onto the floor of the Weasley's living room. "It's the first volume of the Book of Light by Salazar Slytherin."

There were several shocked gasps of disbelief followed by some quiet murmurs to the two Grangers who didn't understand the significance of the name. Every eye in the room turned to Harry for an explanation. "I found them in the Chamber of Secrets a few months ago," he explained.

"You went back down into the Chamber?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling.

Harry frowned. He'd forgotten that Ginny had also been in the chamber, though he knew she didn't remember much of it. Her face was pale and her father gently put his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

"I had a dream," Harry explained. "About a series of books, the Books of Dark, that Slytherin had written. Tom Riddle removed them from the Chamber long ago, but he left the Books of Light behind. He had no use for them. He believed that Light meant weak. But just because he had no use for them didn't mean that we didn't. I went back down to the Chamber to see if they were still there, intending to give them to the Headmaster if they were. But when I found them, I realized they were written in Parseltongue. Voldemort and I were the only ones who could read them. So I started translating them. This is the only one I've managed to finish. But as soon as I figured out what was in this volume I knew it would do more good in your hands, Severus, than anyone else's."

"What's in it?" Severus asked, his hands clenched tightly around the priceless volume.

"Slytherin's experiments and notes, mostly on potions."

"Harry," Severus said, his voice filled with more emotion than he'd ever heard before. "Do you have any idea how valuable this is?"

"Yeah, actually I do," Harry agreed, and he glanced over at Remus, wondering how the man was going to take the rest of his news. "That's why I said this was sort of a gift for you as well Remus."

"I don't understand," the werewolf said uncertainly. What possible use could a book of potions written by Slytherin have to do with him?

Harry took a deep breath. "Salazar Slytherin believed that lycanthropy was not a disease."

"What?" both Sirius and Remus asked in unison, the tension clear on their faces.

"According to Slytherin lycanthropy was the result of a failed Animagus transformation," Harry explained. "An Animagus has the power to transform into an animal -- a non-magical animal, like a cat or dog or deer. According to Slytherin's notes there was a wizard a long time ago who made an attempt to transform himself into a magical creature -- a Hell Hound to be exact."

"You can't transform into a magical creature," Hermione protested. "It won't work. Wizards and magical creatures have a different type of connection between their minds and their magical cores. Such a transformation would disconnect your mind from your magical core and you would no longer be able to control the magic -- which would automatically stop the transformation."

Harry nodded. "According to Slytherin, when an Animagus transforms into a non-magical animal the connection between his mind and his magical core remains intact. But when a human tries to transform into a magical-creature the connection breaks. The man who attempted the magical transformation reasoned that all he would need to do would be to come up with a potion that would bridge the gap between his mind and the Hell Hound's magical core so that not only could he control his magic but he would also retain his human mind. But something went wrong -- he got the potion wrong and it only partially worked. He retained his magic so that the transformation worked, but he lost the connection to his mind and mutated into a mindless, wolf-like beast. He never transformed back, and before he was killed he managed to bite several different people. His saliva was infected with the potion he had taken.

"Now obviously his transformation was triggered by the Animagus metamorphosis spell. But the potion was unstable and it automatically triggered a weakened version of the metamorphosis spell the first night the moon was full. The victims of the wizard's bite transformed into mindless beasts until the sun rose the following day. The first werewolves were born. But the thing is, Slytherin didn't think that there was anything wrong with the wizard's logic -- he just reasoned that the man had screwed up the potion. That is what he wrote in that notebook -- his own experiments with the potion. There were two things wrong with it -- first he'd used several lunar-based plants which caused the potion to react to the full moon in a way that it shouldn't have, and second, the wizard himself did not possess a strong enough magical core to complete the transformation properly. According to his notes, Slytherin fixed the potion and gave it to a number of different werewolves. If they were strong enough, it cured them." With that Harry turned to Remus, his eyes shining.

"I know you're strong enough Remus. The test to determine their magical strength was the Patronus Charm. Only the werewolves who were strong enough to cast the Patronus Charm were cured. You taught the charm to me. I know Severus can make the potion, and I know you'll be strong enough to be cured."

Remus was openly trembling now, a look of disbelief on his face. By this point, Sirius had wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and was holding him tightly.

"Cured," Remus whispered. "No more transformations? No more full moons?"

Harry shook his head. "No more full moons," he agreed. "But you don't understand, Remus. You won't be a werewolf, you'll be a magical Animagus. The cure gives you the ability to transform into the wolf whenever you wish, full moon or not, night or day. And you are never in danger of loosing your human mind. You'll have to learn the Animagus spells, but I know Sirius can teach them to you. And Severus will have to learn how to make the potion, but I can't imagine anyone more capable. I know it will work. It has to."

Both men were now looking at Severus almost desperately, hope burning in both their eyes as Severus began skimming through the book. While Harry knew there was no love lost between the Marauders and Severus, he had no doubt that the man would do everything in his power to make the cure Slytherin wrote about. "I can see similarities to the wolvesbane potion," he stated. "The same basic principles, and there's a charm component." He glanced up at the two men. "I'm going to have to do some experiments to make certain it is safe. And the potion itself takes several months to brew. But I'll do everything I can."

At his words, Remus let out a barely stifled sob. Rising swiftly to his feet he rushed from the room, Sirius close on his tail. Alarmed Harry turned to the others for an explanation.

"Leave them alone for few moments, Harry," Bill urged. "For most of his life Remus has been controlled by a very painful and terrifying curse. I can't imagine what he must be feeling right now to know there may be an end in sight at last."

Harry nodded in understanding, hoping the man was all right.

"Harry, you said there were other volumes," Severus said. "How many, and have you read them all?"

"Ten in all," Harry explained. "I've looked through them -- they're filled with all sorts of things. Spells, potions, charms, medicine, sometimes just ideas and philosophy. But unfortunately Parseltongue is not easy to translate. It looks like English to me. I can't tell you how many times while I was working on that volume when I found myself simply writing it back down in Parseltongue when I thought I was writing English." He laughed somewhat self-deprecatingly. "It's a pity really that such an ability was wasted on me instead of on you or Hermione. I only understand a fraction of the things in the book."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry," Hermione told him quickly. "I think you understand more than you realize. You obviously understood what Slytherin was saying about the lycanthropy potion."

"And I know from personal experience that translating an ancient manuscript is no easy task," Severus added, freely giving a compliment to the surprise of his other students. "It's a priceless gift, Harry. Thank you."

Harry just grinned at him, his face flushed with pleasure. "You're welcome."

"Well, this calls for a celebration," Molly decided, rising to her feet. "What say we get breakfast on the table so we can all eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us to get Christmas dinner on the table tonight, and Albus, Minerva and Hagrid will be here in a couple of hours."

While the rest of them scrambled to help Molly, Harry went in search of Remus and Sirius. He found them outside on the front porch wrapped in each other's arms. Remus had his face buried against Sirius' neck, and Sirius was gently stroking his back. Neither man was saying anything. Reluctant to disturb so intimate a moment, Harry turned to go back into the house, but Remus must have heard him.

"Harry," he called.

Harry turned back, staring at the two of them hesitantly. Both men were looking at him now with so much emotion in their eyes he wanted to cry. Instead he moved toward them and they both infolded him in their arms.

"Thank you, Harry," Remus said simply, and the tone of his voice said everything that ever needed to be said on the subject.

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Author's Notes: This chapter deals with one of my pet peeves in the HP world. The Wizarding World can regrow bones, conjure items out of thin air, transfigure animals into objects and objects into animals -- but they can't fix poor eyesight? Muggles have been able to fix eyesight for years now -- so why on earth can't the wizards? And if they can't why hasn't Madam Pomfrey fixed Harry's vision during one of his numerous stays in the hospital wing?


	27. Chapter 27 Before the Storm

Chapter 27 Before the Storm

Christmas Dinner was a joyous affair. Albus, Minerva and Hagrid joined them and Harry realized that he had everyone in the world that he loved sitting there at the table. He couldn't think of a better gift to himself than to simply be here, part of this odd family. He knew the war still hung over his head, and when they returned to Hogwarts they would return to the worry that haunted him constantly. But for this one day he was happy, and he determined to forget about everything else for a while.

Albus of course wanted to hear all about Slytherin's books, and he promised to take the Headmaster back down to the Chamber to see if any of the remaining books were of any value. Truthfully, he found it very odd to think that he had access to a place in Hogwarts that the Headmaster did not.

They all talked late into the night, but eventually Hagrid, Albus, Minerva and Severus bid them goodbye to head back to Hogwarts, while the Grangers prepared to use a port key Albus had brought them to go home. Before he left, Severus drew Harry outside to talk to him in private.

"I wanted to thank you for inviting me, Harry," he told him. "I didn't expect to enjoy myself, but I did."

Harry grinned at him, his new and improved eyesight letting him see more clearly the subtle play of emotion in Severus' eyes. If you knew what to look for, the man was actually quite expressive, despite the fact that he so rarely smiled. "I'm glad you came."

"Was it what you were hoping for?" Severus asked curiously, motioning back toward the house. Harry knew immediately what he was talking about, the memory of the invitation he'd issued to Severus springing clearly to mind.

"Yes," he nodded. "Just like I'd imagined a family would be."

Severus nodded and turn to leave, though he paused a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know. . .for all their lack of political power and prestige or social standing, the Weasleys are rare breed."

It was an extraordinary statement considering Severus' opinion of Gryffindors, but Harry knew exactly what he was saying. Severus' own family was nothing like this. Not too long ago he had told Harry that hate was a common theme in families, that often it was the glue that held them together. He was acknowledging openly that this was not true for the Weasleys.

"I know," Harry agreed. "But then from where I come from, all of you are a rare breed."

Severus frowned thoughtfully, but said nothing. Instead he gave Harry a very rare half smile, before nodding to him and apparating home. Harry, still grinning, went inside to join Sirius and Remus in the living room.

-----------------------------

Albus arranged for Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny to return to the castle two days before the other students returned on the Hogwart's Express. Severus found himself anxiously awaiting Harry's return. He'd missed the boy more than he expected; his quarters seemed empty without him. And though he had never touched the boy in the bed they shared, the nights felt colder without him beside him.

He'd spent much of the rest of the holiday pouring over the book Harry had given him. He doubted the Gryffindor truly understood what the personal notebook of Salazar Slytherin meant to someone like him -- the knowledge contained in the manuscript was some of the most sought after secrets in the entire world. Albus had been chomping at the bit to read the book himself, something Severus had promised he could do after he had copied it down in his own hand. And while the Lycanthropy cure was horribly complicated, Severus was certain it would work. It would require a great effort on both his and Lupin's part, but he was willing to put in the work, and knew Lupin would be as well. He anticipated publishing the results with great glee.

As for Harry, he found himself looking forward to the young man's company once more. The potion he had given the Gryffindor had done more than just improve his eyesight. It had also fixed the faint myopic caste to his green eyes. Without those clunky glasses, the boy had gone from being attractive to down right handsome. He had no doubt that the girls of Hogwarts would be swooning over him upon their return, and no few number of the boys as well.

Surprisingly both Black and Lupin had thanked Severus individually for the potion he had given Harry. It seemed they had determined between them that Harry had never actually received any proper eye care growing up. Apparently the glasses he had been wearing all these years weren't even made to his prescription -- they had been given to him by a neighbor who was throwing them out. They were several degrees weaker than they should have been and it was a wonder Harry had done as well in school as he had.

It occurred to Severus that if Harry had been unbeatable at Quidditch with such poor eyesight, his own house team did not stand a chance now. It would seem that until Harry graduated, he had no hope of winning his standing bet with Minerva. It was also entirely possible that Harry's prediction about him becoming a professional Quidditch player just might indeed come true.

Harry returned to their quarters later that morning, looking happy to be back and surprisingly cheerful to be in his company once again. He took only a few moments to unpack all his things before he raced off again -- to take Albus down to Chamber of Secrets he explained. Anxious to see it himself, Severus invited himself along, and the three of them along with Ron, Hermione, Remus and Sirius spent the day exploring Slytherin's domain. Ginny Weasley choose not to join them, having seen enough of the Chamber the first time.

Listening to Harry Potter speak Parseltongue was a strange experience for Severus. Save for that one time during the duel in Harry's second year, none of them had heard him use it again. Prior to that the only person Severus had ever heard speak Parseltongue was Lord Voldemort himself. Coming from Voldemort the language was the epitome of evil -- something dark and terrifying. To hear it from Harry's lips was alarming, startling all of them. Remus, Sirius and Albus had never heard him before and they all stared at the boy in silence as they listened to him hiss a command to open the various doors of the Chamber.

To Severus the sound was magical; coming from Harry's mouth it was strangely sensual. There wasn't a Slytherin alive who did not envy such a gift. To Severus' embarrassment he found himself becoming aroused by the sound and was grateful for the long robes he currently wore. He received only an odd glance from Remus, however, and so suspected that the others did not notice his reaction.

It was odd to explore the Chamber of Secrets with so many Gryffindors. It struck Severus almost as sacrilegious -- but then he saw the carcass of the enormous basilisk on the floor before the statue of Slytherin, and understood that once again he had severely underestimated the young man he had married. That a twelve-year-old had slain such a creature was unimaginable. That he had also somehow survived the bite of the creature, even with the aid of the Phoenix tears defied all logic.

The Gryffindors all gathered around the dead beast, poking and prodding it like some side show attraction, while Albus simply stood before it with an odd gleam in his blue eyes. Severus saw the old man turn to stare at Harry who was ignoring his godfather's and best friends' comments in favor of looking at the giant statue of Slytherin. Severus could see both sorrow and admiration in the old man's eyes and moved to his side in concern.

"Albus?" he said quietly.

"I hadn't realized it was such a creature, Severus," Albus murmured softly.

"It doesn't seem possible that he could have survived this," Severus agreed.

"No," Albus agreed. "It does not. But then Harry regularly does the impossible, doesn't he?"

Severus frowned at that, wondering what else Albus might be referring to. He had of course researched the King's Voice command that Harry had used that day in Hogsmeade. But beyond the translation of the spell, and the caveat that it was not useful because it did not seem to work any longer, he had learned nothing of significance. He, like Granger and Weasley, had tried the spell himself, but had failed to get it to work. How Harry had been able to force a Death Eater to turn on his companions with it, he did not know. He suspected Albus knew, or guessed, more than he was letting on. But then Albus Dumbledore had always had his secrets.

Severus asked Harry for permission to harvest the body of the basilisk for potion ingredients -- something which seemed to startled the young man. "Why are you asking me?" he wondered out loud.

"By all law, it belongs to you," Severus explained simply. "And it's worth a fortune if you must know."

Harry looked surprised at that, but he waved it aside. "Well you know I don't have any use for it. Have at it."

When he was certain that the Gryffindors were done oohing and ahing over the beast he summoned two of his personal house elves and had them begin the arduous task of harvesting the remains.

"The library chamber is through there," Harry explained, pointing to the mouth of the statue of Slytherin. They'd all brought their brooms with them and followed Harry inside. There they spent much of the day pouring over the books that had been left behind -- Remus, Albus, Hermione and Severus all in heaven over the discovery. Sirius, Ron and Harry however passed much of the day playing Exploding Snaps in a corner.

Severus and Albus spent the following day locked in Albus' office going through the books they had removed from Slytherin's chamber while Remus and Sirius headed into the Dark Forest to find a long list of ingredients Severus had determined he would need to begin his experiments on the Lycanthrope potion. They left the four younger Gryffindors to pass the day away out on the Quidditch pitch, having a snowball war -- boys against the girls.

Albus and Severus eventually came down to dinner just as Remus and Sirius were returning from their trip to the forest. Before sitting down to eat, Severus went through the list of ingredients, checking to see that they had found everything necessary. While Sirius had never been much of a potions student, Remus at least knew what he was doing and stored everything adequately.

"Where are the children?" Minerva asked as she entered the great hall to join them for dinner.

Severus glanced up at that, noticing for the first time that none of the younger Gryffindors had come in from the cold. Night had already fallen, and it was unusual that they had not returned. He was just about to go look for them, when the Hall doors burst open and to Severus' shock his sister Diana came running in, followed closely by Hagrid.

"Severus!" she cried, her dark eyes wild and desperate looking. "I couldn't stop him!"

A cold chill of dread washed over Severus' body. "Diana?" He caught hold of his sister's arms, shaking her fiercely. "What are you talking about? Stop who?" If this had something to do with Julius. . .

"I tried to stop him," she insisted, her face pale and terrified looking. "But I couldn't! They took Harry!"

Severus didn't wait to hear any more. He was off like a shot, running out of the great hall followed closely by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Minerva and Albus were just behind them as all of them raced for the Quidditch pitch where the young Gryffindors had been playing. It was pitch black outside by now, the moon little more than a crescent in the sky. Albus sent several Wizarding lights aloft to follow them and light their way as they raced across the snowy grounds toward the pitch. As they neared, Severus' breath caught in his throat. Amid the churned snow of the pitch he could see bodies lying unmoving on the ground, reminding him terribly of the time he'd returned to Hogwarts to find the very same pitch covered with the dead bodies of Death Eaters and Aurors. But there were no scorch marks this time, no blood. Just three unmoving forms lying in the snow.

Severus could see immediately that Harry was not among them, and when he reached the first body he fell to his knees to turn it over. Hermione Granger's pale, unmoving face was cold to the touch, but as he pressed his fingers to her throat, he could feel the slow but steady beat of her heart. "She's alive," he told the others in relief as Remus and Sirius checked the two Weasley children.

"So are they," Sirius announced, frantically looking around for some sign of Harry. He transformed immediately into a dog and began sniffing the ground, moving in swift circles in his search.

Severus immediately rose to his feet and grabbed hold of Diana again. "Who did this?" he demanded. "Who took him? Was it Julius?" The monitoring spell he had put on Julius had not been triggered, but he supposed his brother might have found a way around it.

Diana looked briefly confused, but then shook her head swiftly. "No, Severus, it was Alrik. Alrik took him."

For a moment her words didn't make any sense. Why in Merlin's name would Alrik have taken Harry? There was no love lost between the two of them, but Severus would have sworn on his life that Alrik had no loyalty to the Dark Lord and never would. It was Severus' dubious past that had created the rift between him and his sister's husband. "Why?" he hissed. "Why would he do this? What has Harry done to him?"

"Nothing," Diana told him. "It has little to do with Harry. They took him so that Britannia's Ministry would be forced to acknowledge the blood debt they own the Winter Lands. They took him as hostage."

The Winter Land blood debt? Severus only vaguely remembered something about it -- vague references Alrik had made back when he first had married Diana. But Severus had not been on speaking terms with any of his family back then and had never learned the whole story. That Harry had been pulled into this madness was unacceptable. "Where did they take him, Diana?"

"Bifrost Hall," Diana stated.

Severus heart lurched. "That's at the heart of the Winter Lands," he exclaimed. They could neither fly nor apparate into the Winter Lands. The only way there was by taking a boat into the cold North Sea, a dangerous prospect in the heart of winter. He turned desperately toward Albus.

"I'll find out what I can from the Ministry," Albus promised him, and he knew Dumbledore would tend to whatever this blood debt was all about. "You three go after him, bring him home."

A quick glance behind him confirmed that the 'three' Albus was referring to were him, Black and Lupin. The look of dark rage in the two Marauder's eyes was strangely comforting to Severus. For the first time in his life he was grateful to have the two men on his side. He knew for this mission he could not be in better company.

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Author's Notes: A lot of people have been asking me 'when are you going to get to...", and I could list out a bunch of things here: sex, a kiss, romance, a baby/heir, the King's Voice, Slytherin's other books, Voldemort, divorce (or the possibility of it), etc. I'm not ignoring you -- I promise I'll get to it all. While I only have a handful of chapters written from here on in (I still have a few more to get to you, and I wrote 5000 more words yesterday), I do have the entire story planned out. Eventually I'll cover all the missing pieces. Stick with me and hopefully I'll satisfy you all. Thanks again! (No one actually wants them to get divorced, I hope!)

BTW -- I loved everyone's suggestions on who should give Harry the 'talk'. I'm finding the thought of the werewolf, who's never actually been on a date himself, attempting to give Harry the talk. I rather suspect Remus may need the talk himself before too long.


	28. Chapter 28 Viking

Chapter 28 Viking

The pounding of his head woke Harry. Groggily, he tried to raise his hand to touch his temple, only to find something weighing down his wrists. Blinking in confusion, he became aware of the extreme cold seeping into him and a violent rocking motion to the ground he was sitting on. As his eyesight cleared behind the pounding headache he found himself staring at the heavy iron manacles that were weighing down his wrists, a short length of chain stretched between them. The world around him lurched, and he slid sideways against a heavy wooden object, cold, wet spray striking his face. Looking up in shock he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

He was in a large boat, seated near the stern but slumped against a large wooden barrel. From his position in the bottom of the boat he could see the prow rising up before him, the end of it curving in the shadowed shape of a dragon. The prow was rising and falling as pounding waves of water rocked the boat. Only a few steps away from him, seated on wooden benches were two extremely large men draped in heavy cloaks of fur. Both men had a fierce set to their bearded faces as if hardened by a life Harry did not want to imagine.

A glance behind him down the length of the long boat showed that there were a dozen more men of a similar caste seated throughout the boat. Large wooden oars were propelling them through choppy waters, the oars moving by themselves.

For a moment Harry felt a wash of panic roaring through him as he thought perhaps he was on the boat that took men to Azkaban. Sirius had told him that Azkaban was on an island, and prisoners were taken there chained in a boat. But though his heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, Harry forced himself not to cry out. There was no reason for anyone to take him to Azkaban. And besides, why would the boat to Azkaban look like some sort of Viking long boat? It didn't make sense.

He tried to figure out how he could have gotten there. He'd been playing in the snow with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He vaguely remembered seeing something small and silver flying toward him, the flash of it glinting in the fading sunlight catching his attention. He had thought for a moment that someone had released a snitch in the middle of their snow ball fight, but then the thing had struck the ground and Harry could remember nothing more until he'd woken up here.

A stun grenade, he wondered. He'd heard of such things in the Muggle world. Perhaps there was a magical equivalent? But if he and the others had been stunned, where were the two Weasleys and Hermione? He could see no one else chained on the boat.

A cold gust of wind blew against him, nearly blinding him with its icy chill and he found himself shivering violently. Were they Death Eaters, he wondered. Were they taking him now to Voldemort? But why kidnap him? Why not just kill him out right?

"Are you cold, lad?" One of the grim-faced men had noticed his movement and had turned piercing blue eyes on him. Someone further back in the boat tossed a heavy fur cloak forward and the man immediately draped it over Harry. It looked like it was made out of the skin of a bear -- though Harry couldn't remember hearing much about bears wandering around England these days. Nevertheless, he grabbed the cloak and pulled it over him, grateful for its warmth. As he settled it around his shoulders, he took quick stock of his condition.

Besides the headache, he did not appear to be wounded, and the headache was already fading. He was now more grateful than ever for the eyesight correcting potion Severus had made for him, since he doubted his glasses would have survived the kidnapping. A quick search of the inside of the jacket he was wearing confirmed that his wand was gone. He was completely defenseless.

He was leery of drawing attention to himself, but he had to find out where he was and what they intended to do with him. Obviously they didn't mean for him to freeze to death. They had no need to give him the cloak, so he took comfort in the fact that they wanted him alive. Though considering what he knew Death Eaters did to their prisoners, maybe being alive wasn't that great a thing after all.

"Where am I?" he asked the man who had tossed him the cloak.

The man frowned behind his beard and shouted something to someone else further down the boat. Harry vaguely recognized some of the words he spoke -- or at least felt like he should, but he could make little sense of what it was the man had said. It almost sounded like Old English.

There was movement in the back of the boat and Harry turned to get a better view of the others. His earlier opinion of the boat was only more firmly enforced when he got a better look at the men -- for all appearances they were Vikings. Huge men with long, braided blond and red hair and heavy beards. He saw now that all of them were armed with enormous swords and axes. But as far as he knew, there were no more Vikings in the world -- at least not like this. But once more the Wizarding World appeared to be throwing him for a loop. He really should have paid more attention in Professor Binn's class.

A tall blond man moved forward from the back of the boat, taking a seat not far from where Harry was sitting. Though he was dressed much differently than he had been the first time he met him, Harry recognized him immediately. A coat of chain mail and heavy fur had replaced the fine doublet and velvet cloak, but the hair and beard were the same. He stared in shock at Alrik Brand, Diana Snape's husband.

"Alrik!" he exclaimed in shock, feeling the bitter taste of betrayal washing through him. He would not have been surprised to learn that Julius Snape was a supporter of the Dark Lord, but he would never have imagined it of Alrik. Though the man had been gruff and rather brash, Harry had liked the man and his gentle wife. "Why?" he demanded, anger flashing through him.

Alrik frowned. "Rest ease, lad," he commanded. "You're in no danger."

"No danger!" Harry snarled. "You're taking me to Voldemort!"

His words had an alarming reaction, causing all the men on the boat to gasp and grumble, all making a very superstitious sign to ward off evil. It had been a hand gesture that Professor Trelawney had shown them so Harry didn't have much faith in its power.

Alrik leaned forward and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking him harshly. "Do not speak that name! Do you want to put all of us into the sea?" He released Harry and leaned back. "This has nothing to do with He Who Must Not Be Named. Truth be told, it has nothing to do with you. We need something from the Ministry of Magic and taking you was the only way we could get it. I promise, you will not be harmed, and we will release you as soon as our own matter is dealt with."

Harry stared at him incredulously. Something insane in his life that actually had nothing to do with Voldemort -- didn't sound possible. "You're holding me hostage?" he asked in disbelief.

Alrik nodded. "We're taking you to my home in the Winter Lands. You'll be returned safely to Severus when all is said and done. I swear an oath as your brother-in-law that we are not aligned with your enemy."

"If you mean me no harm, then give me my wand," Harry insisted.

But Alrik just shook his head. "I can't take the chance that you'll try to escape. I'll return your wand, when I return you."

Frustration and rage flooded through Harry, but he knew there was nothing he could do. "Is Diana a part of this?" he asked, needing to know if Snape's sister had betrayed him as well. Surprisingly, this question also brought murmurs of disapproval from some of the men and several again made a sign against evil, though not quite as desperately as the last time.

Alrik glanced at his men, then back at Harry. "It is bad luck to speak a woman's name over water," he informed Harry. "But no, my wife had nothing to do with this. She and my daughters are back in High Hill."

"Lord Alrik," one of the men called. He stood atop the highest point at the back of the boat, looking out across the water. "I see the signal light."

Alrik nodded grimly and turned to the men. "We need to move quickly. Speed is our best defense. The boy must reach Bifrost Hall no matter what the price."

Harry found his rage fading beneath the growing alarm he felt in his heart. The men around him had begun drawing their weapons, pulling swords from their sheaths and grabbing iron shields from the floor of the boat. He could see now that all of them were dressed in various forms of armor -- from leather to chain mail. Several men settled pounded-metal helmets upon their heads. Harry had the sinking feeling that this was more than just a simple trip to some land holding ahead of them. These men looked braced for a war.

Alrik clapped him on the shoulder again, gaining his attention. "When we land we will move quickly into the woods. Do not speak or make any unnecessary noise. If you try to run or get away from us, you will die."

"You said you wouldn't hurt me," Harry protested, his heart in his throat.

"And we won't," Alrik assured him. "We're here to protect you. Ours is not a tame world like the one you come from." He pointed to three of the closest men near him. Along with swords, he could see that these three had also drawn wands -- no one else seemed similarly armed. "These are Gudrik, Olaf and Bjorn. They are our most powerful wizards. You'll stay with them no matter what. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, suddenly terrified of what they might be taking him into. The night was pitch black, a heavy mist obscuring the air around them, but he could feel the boat start to rock more violently as they approached some unknown shore. "What's out there?" he asked, wondering what all these men were so afraid of.

"Death," Alrik informed him grimly. He motioned to the men. They braced themselves as if preparing to leap from the boat. The man Alrik had called Gudrik reached over and caught Harry's arm. "Stay with me boy, no matter what," he whispered quietly, his care-lined face grim and frightening.

Harry heard the bottom of the boat scrap against rocks and sand on a dark beach, and a moment later he was being pulled from his seat and bodily hauled over the side of the boat. Someone large and burly caught him and he had only a moment to gasp in shock as cold water lapped around his feet before he was being propelled by an iron grip onto firm ground.

There were more men waiting for them on the shore, all heavily armed and bearing torches that sputtered and flared in the damp air. Somewhere along the way the heavy fur cloak had fallen from Harry's shoulders but he barely noticed so frightened was he now. He was shoved into the center of these men and then all but dragged away from the water and into a black forest beyond.

He could hear the clank of chain mail and the crunch of gravel beneath the feet of all the men. The torches flickered and hissed in the mist, casting horrific shadows all around them. Harry, with his hands still bound by the heavy iron chains struggled to keep up in the dark, barely able to see where he was going despite his perfect eyesight now. Why someone did not cast a lumos spell he did not know, for certainly a spell would be better than the endlessly moving light of the torches.

No one spoke as they marched, but at least they all seemed to know where they were going. When no attack appeared to be imminent, despite Alrik's terrifying words of warning, Harry began trying to figure out where he could be. He'd never heard of the Winter Lands or Bifrost Hall, but then again he had never heard of the County of High Hill either. He supposed it was possible that he was once again in some unplottable county. Our world is not tame, Alrik had said -- though what that might mean Harry could only imagine.

He wondered how long he had been unconscious in that boat before he'd woken up. It could have been minutes or hours. It was still dark, but he could not tell the time without something more to go by. In late December the sun did not rise until late in the morning. He might have been out for hours before he'd awakened.

They walked on, never slowing, and to Harry, never seeming to tire either. He estimated they'd been walking at least two hours before he began to notice even the faintest lighting of the sky. Seeing that the earliest light of morning was coming, Harry despaired to realize he must indeed have been unconscious for hours. In that amount of time these people could have taken him anywhere in the world.

A sound nearby in the woods caused all the men to stop in their tracks, their hands tightening on their weapons. The three wizards moved immediately to surround Harry, the other's forming a circle around them. Seeing fear on their faces, Harry knew better than to speak but he glanced to Alrik for some sign of what was going on.

The sound came again -- a high-pitched cry that sent shivers of terror down Harry's spine.

"It's the Grendlings," Alrik hissed. "They've got our scent."

"Are they alone?" one of the other men whispered and they all looked to the three wizards who guarded Harry.

Olaf frowned but shook his head. "I don't feel anything else," he told them, though what he meant Harry had no idea. Regardless, his words seemed to put the men somewhat at ease. But the cry came again closer now, and they braced themselves.

Beneath the sputtering of the torches and the rushing of wind in the trees Harry could hear the sound of something moving through the woods. His heart was pounding, and despite the cold he could feel sweat snaking down his back as he breathed in the icy air. He frantically searched the woods trying to catch some glimpse of what might be out there, his hands clenching and unclenching around the cold length of chain binding his wrists. He wished to god he had his wand, hating the feeling of helplessness. But there had to be twenty men around him, twenty armed wizards who looked like they knew how to use those swords they were carrying. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out why only three of them had drawn their wands.

And then he saw the flash of red eyes deep in the blackness of the forest and from one moment to the next they were surrounded, dark shadowy shapes leaping from the trees and attacking with tooth and claw. Instantly the silence was shattered with deafening battle cries and he could hear men screaming and swords striking flesh and bone as the cold steel blades flashed in the torchlight.

The crowd of men around him surged and moved and he was pushed from all sides as they tried to keep him in their center. He could see the creatures now -- vaguely humanoid shapes that seemed as comfortable on four legs as two with enormous mouths filled with razor teeth and claws three inches long. Bears he though or enormous wild cats -- the Grendlings were covered in heavy fur and their eyes burned red in the darkness. They leaped and screamed, lashing out with deadly claws which screeched against chain mail, powerful bodies breaking like stone against hastily raised shields.

Harry, trapped in the center of the battling men, stared in horror as one man was swarmed by four of the Grendlings and pulled to the ground. His head was ripped from his shoulders before his companions could strike down with swords and drive the beasts back. Blood sprayed through the air, screams echoing in the night. Harry stumbled and tripped, realizing in mindless horror that he was walking upon bodies -- men and Grendlings who had fallen in the very first minutes of battle.

There was a breath, a pause, a momentarily lull in the battle as the Grendlings pulled back and then circled in for another attack and the men tightening their circle around Harry.

And then a chill, as if Winter had only just now arrived, washed over them all, and despite the faint light of morning, the shadows grew, a cold iciness filling all of them beyond the heat of the battle.

"The Dementors are coming!" Olaf cried out, warning the others and Harry's heart nearly stopped in his chest.

He could feel them now -- that horrible, familiar dread as their darkness swarmed over him, swallowing all his thoughts, all his hopes and dreams. The Grendlings, sensing their approach pushed the attack, and the battle began again. But now Harry could see the cloaked figures of Dementors swarming out of the forest. Several lit like flies on one of the wounded men who lay broken outside the circle of warriors. Harry saw them swoop in for the Kiss.

"Expecto Patronum!" Olaf shouted, brandishing his wand along with Bjorn and Gudrik. A thin silvery stream of light leaked from the end of his wand, striking one of the Dementors and driving it momentarily back from the dying man. Five more moved to take its place.

Harry stared in horror -- the other two men had little better luck. The silvery light that leaked from their wands was barely noticed by the Dementors, and they kept coming forward. Two more men dropped, felled not by the Grendlings who were now content to tear apart the men who had already died, but by the despair that washed over them. Harry could see more creatures moving in for the Kiss.

"My wand!" he shouted in terror. "Give me my wand!" He had no idea were Alrik was any more, couldn't even tell if the man was still alive. But he knew in a flash of insight that these men had no defense against the creatures that were swarming them. If these three wizards who stood before him were the best they had then they were all doomed.

Even as he shouted and looked desperately around for something he could defend himself with, he saw Olaf's spell wink out as one of the Grendlings got past his swinging sword and pulled him to the ground. The Dementors and the Grendlings moved in for the kill, and in the flashing light of the dropped torches Harry spied Olaf's wand lying at his feet.

He didn't think, just bent down and grabbed the wand, feeling the power surging to life inside him. He grabbed hold of his most powerful memory and raised the wand, his magic singing inside him, burning like an inferno.

"Expecto Patronum!"

His voice echoed off the trees and from the end of the wand a blinding light exploded, the ghostly shape of Prongs roaring to life. It drove back the Dementors in front of it, striking their shadowed bodies with its enormous antlers and sending them fleeing into the night. Then Prongs turned and circled back, charging the others, antlers flashing, hooves crushing darkness beneath them.

Prongs left a trail of silvery fire wherever he went and the Grendlings backed away in terror. Freed of the horror of the Dementors the warriors leaped at the Grendlings slicing and hacking at them, and within moments all that was left were the sounds of moans from wounded men. The Grendlings were dead or gone and the Dementors had all vanished into the night.

Prongs circled back around again, surrounding them all in a circle of fire as Harry used the wand to trace a warding ring around them. The men had fallen silent, eyes upon the glowing creature as it turned then and bowed low to Harry before leaping at him and vanishing once again into the wand. Shaking in terror, and covered in blood that was not his own, Harry slowly lowered the wand to his side.

For a long moment no one moved and Harry's eyes took in the nightmare around him. Of the twenty men who had guarded him only twelve yet lived, all of them wounded. Five steps from his feet was a body so badly torn apart he doubted they'd be able to identify the remains. The corpses of the monstrous Grendlings surrounded them, the ground black with their blood. He knew that at least half of those men who lay dead at his feet had lost more than just their lives, but their souls as well, devoured by the Dementors that these people seemed incapable of driving back.

Three men with wands -- wizards who had used swords instead of magic to fight off an enemy he had never imagined before. Men who had willingly walked into a forest haunted by Dementors. No harm, Alrik had said. No harm would come to him.

Harry raised the wand again. "Accio Harry Potter's wand." He did not see from which direction it came but an instant later his own familiar wand struck his free hand. He immediately dropped Olaf's wand into the dirt and turned his own on the chains around his wrists. "Alohomora," he commanded, and the chains dropped obediently to the ground. The weight of the chains had been all that kept his hands from shaking.

One of the men moved then, detaching himself from the shadows and coming toward him. Though covered head to foot in blood, Harry recognized him now as Alrik. The look on his face was not one he recognized. Harry's hand came up immediately and he pointed his wand dead center at the man's chest. Harry could feel a trickle of warm blood running down his face where he'd been splattered; his heart was thudding so loudly he could hear the pounding in his veins. He did not recognize himself in that instant, could no longer tell what he was feeling -- fear, rage, hatred, or nothing at all. All he knew was in that moment he held a wand on another human being and believed he could kill with nothing more than a thought.

Alrik dropped to his knees in front of Harry, his arms held out to his sides as if in surrender. "I beg you," he pleaded and the sound of his voice brought some semblance of life back to Harry's blank mind. "Do not leave us."

In shock Harry watched as the other men all dropped to their knees as well. "I beg you," Alrik repeated. "Do not leave us to die."

His words struck him like cold water and Harry staggered back a step, the scent of death rising up from the steaming ground.

"Why did you bring me here?" Harry barely recognized his own voice -- it sounded harsh and broken from screaming. "Why are we in this place?" They brought him here. Alrik had led his men here to this death trap. And while they might have been well matched against the Grendlings with their swords and axes, they obviously had no defense against the Dementors. Coming here had been madness of the worst sort.

"This is our home," Alrik told him, blood from a small head wound dripping down into his beard as his spoke. "This is where we live. But we have been over run with these Dementors, and we have no defense against them. We have begged the Ministry to help us but they have turned their backs on us. We brought you here so that they would have to listen, so that all the eyes of Britannia would turn toward us and see our plight. These Dementors devour our brothers, our wives and our children, and if you leave us, we will all die."

Harry stared at him in disbelieving horror. "You have children here?" he whispered.

"Yes," Alrik nodded. "The Dementors do not care who they take. They have no mercy in them, and we have no way to fight them. I beg you to come to Bifrost Hall and speak with my father. Do not turn your back on us the way the Ministry has. Please."

They were all kneeling before him in surrender and supplication -- several of the men who looked too weak to do so. Harry found himself lowering his wand without thought. Still Alrik did not rise, the question shining in his eyes. Slowly Harry inclined his head.

Alrik rose stiffly to his feet. "Gather the wounded and dead!" he barked out the order to the other men, and instantly they all leaped into action. Harry stood off to one side, too numb to know what to think, tremors running through his body and shaking his frame.

He watched as the men swiftly separated human from Grendling on the battlefield. Gudrik and Bjorn were doing what little they could with spells to mend wounds that might prove life threatening. Olaf, Harry could see, was missing one of his legs and half of his stomach. His unmoving eyes were frozen in a look of horror. Had Harry anything in his stomach he would have emptied it at that moment.

It became quickly apparent that the men had no way of transporting the bodies. Of the twelve still living, three of them were barely able to walk and needed the aid of one of their companions to travel. That left six men to carry the bodies of eight, though one of the bodies was little more than a torso.

"We leave them then," Alrik said grimly. "We can not delay."

"We can't leave them for the wolves," one of the men hissed in despair.

"And we can't wait for the Grendlings to come back," Alrik told him.

Harry didn't understand what was happening. In the six years he'd been at Hogwarts he thought he had come to understand the basics of how the Wizarding World worked -- but this was beyond his comprehension. What was wrong with these people? Grown men were not supposed to act this way.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the first body. "Moblicorpus," he commanded. The body, held together now by magic, rose horizontally up off the ground and moved toward the edge of the clearing. Seven more times Harry cast the spell and the remaining bodies fell into line. The men stared at him in surprise, the looks on their face again something Harry did not recognize or understand. His stomach churned uneasily.

"Lead the way," he growled to one of the men who was just staring at the floating corpses with disbelieving eyes.

Harry could not tell if the emotion churning inside him was anger or grief. At this point, he wasn't certain if he cared. All he knew was that he desperately wanted to go home. But he could not bear the thought of Dementors devouring the souls of children. And so he fell into step behind an animated line of dripping corpses and followed the Viking warriors into the woods.

-------------------------------------------

Author's Notes: I'd place the Winter Lands north of Scotland, but just south of the Faroe Islands. As such, since it's the middle of winter, the days are very short. On average the sun would rise around 9:20 in the morning and set by 3:20 in the afternoon.

And I have a question for the British readers -- since so many people have commented on this. While I live in the U.S., my family were all born and raised in Ireland, going back as far as our line can trance. But all of us, my generation, my parents' generation, my grandparents' and so on, have always referred to our mothers as "Mommy". (Though we do tend to pronounce it differently than the typical American -- the vowel sounds are slightly different.) Naturally, in the U.S. it was shortened by the younger generation to "mom". Is this different in England? I thought "Mum" was a regional thing -- or is it used universally throughout all of England, Scotland and Wales? I'd like to know to correct it if necessary in future chapters, since Hermione's parents and the Dursleys will be making a reappearance. There seems to be more variation in what we called our fathers -- anything from Daddy, to Dad, to Da', to Papa -- it depended on how close you were to your father.


	29. Chapter 29 Understanding Duty

Chapter 29 Understanding Duty

It took another half hour to reach their destination, and by then the sky had brightened considerably. The adrenalin from the battle had at last worn off and Harry was left with nothing but the empty horror of what he had seen. As they moved higher up, they found themselves trudging through snow, and Harry shivered violently in the chill wind. A heating charm cast upon his clothes helped but he wished he had not dropped that fur cloak earlier.

They crested a hill and Harry saw at last the tall stone battlements of an enormous Keep rising out of the rocks ahead of them. In the dim light of morning, torches still burned from the walls, and Harry could see warriors walking the battlements, all armed with heavy crossbows. The castle was enormous, though of a much different design than Hogwarts. This one was starker in ornament, a fortress of war rather than the ornate palace Hogwarts was. It was made up of great walls and large blocky halls, and as Harry moved further up the hill he could see that the walls extended a great distance off to either side. A thousand people could live inside such a structure, and from the looks of the men upon the wall this was a working Keep rather than the school Hogwarts had been turned into.

A horn blared into the pale morning light as they approached, and Harry saw the great iron portcullis that guarded the entrance to the fortress being drawn upward. As he followed his guides inside, the trail of corpses moving ahead of him, he felt the tingle of wards washing over him. That at least was familiar -- that at least was something he understood. Like Hogwarts this place was warded with magic. But why he had seen so little other evidence of its use among the men who had taken him, he still did not understand.

Cries of horror and grief greeted him as he directed the bodies into the center courtyard and set them down on the ground. Women swarmed over the bodies of the dead, wailing their grief over the loss of their loved ones and Harry stood there in numbed silence uncertain what to do. He could see small children clutching the bloodied hands of their fathers, and watched in silent horror as a girl only a few years younger than he was stroked the hair of one man's head only to realize that the head was no longer attached to the body.

"Come away, Harry," Alrik urged, and Harry allowed the man to lead him away from the grizzly scene and into the heart of the castle.

Moments later he found himself in an enormous Hall that reminded him vaguely of the Great Hall. There were no floating candles, and no animated sky. But there were long wooden tables and the walls were draped with heavy tapestries. One wall had three huge fireplaces, each lit with a roaring fire. Alrik led him over to one of them, and he sat down on one of the table benches only distantly aware of the activities around him.

Food and drink were brought to the table, men and women milling about. He could see several old women he thought might be healers tending to the wounded men they had brought in, using potions and unguents to seal up their wounds. Two women stopped before him, asked him if he were hurt and then cast several cleaning charms over him when he assured them he was not. Someone else thrust a goblet into his hand and he drank the contents down without checking it first -- choking on the taste when he realized it was some sort of sweet ale. A moment later someone else replaced the ale with a goblet of clean water and he drank that gratefully, his stomach at last beginning to settle, his thoughts beginning to clear.

Alrik approached him then, a tall golden-haired man beside him. The stranger was dressed in dragonskin leathers. A cloak of dark blue velvet draped his shoulders. He wore his hair in two braids and had beads woven into his long beard. Though he was young looking yet, Harry guessed by the family resemblance that this man was Alrik's father.

"Harry, this is Lord Asgeir Brand, the Lord of Bifrost Hall," Alrik introduced.

Harry rose to his feet understanding enough to know that 'lord' was not in this case a self-appointed title. He took the hand Asgeir offered him, shaking it firmly. "Lord Brand," he greeted, feeling very much out of his element.

"Welcome to Bifrost Hall, Harry Potter," Asgeir greeted. "Alrik tells me that we are in your debt. That you drove off the Dementors with your Patronus."

Not knowing how else to respond, Harry just nodded his head.

"He also tells me that you have come here freely."

At that Harry shot a glare at Alrik but Asgeir dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I know you were taken against your will, Harry," he amended quickly. "But you chose to come here and hear us out when you recovered your wand. You must have known then that Alrik could not have stopped you from leaving."

"He said the Dementors were threatening children," Harry told him angrily.

"And so you came here to offer us your aid."

"I came here to find out what is happening? I came here for an explanation," Harry growled. "He kidnapped me to hold me hostage for the Ministry. Why? What does the Ministry have to do with this?"

Asgeir nodded in understanding. "It's a long story, but I will tell you everything. I suspect you have more questions than that however."

Harry found himself looking over at Bjorn and Gudrik -- they were busy eating large slabs of venison that some of the women had brought in. Harry's stomach churned at the thought of eating anything just then.

"You are all wizards, are you not?" he asked tightly. Judging by the number of men he had seen on the walls, and the comings and goings he saw now in this hall, he guessed that this was an entire community. A city within the Keep walls with hundreds if not thousands of men, women and children.

"Yes," Asgeir confirmed.

"Only three men drew their wands out there," Harry said, trying to get his mind around the concept, trying to understand what it was he was seeing here.

"They were our three bests," Alrik informed him. "They were the only ones who could caste the Patronus charm."

Harry glanced around the hall. On the far side of the room he could see a man lighting several candles with a quick flick of his wand. And several women were floating in kegs of ale before the glowing tips of their wands. Near the door he could see several small children playing some version of Exploding Snaps. This was no a Muggle community. "You're not squibs. I can see that," he said simply, still not able to understand what had happened.

Alrik and Asgeir exchanged a silent look, then Asgeir clapped him on the shoulder. "Come with me, Harry. I'll take you some place were we can talk more freely."

He fell into step beside the two men, following them out of the hall and into a small room off to one side. There was a fire lit in the hearth and several heavy cushioned chairs set before it. A large wooden table shoved off to one side was covered with old books and maps, and a single window looked out into the large courtyard below.

As Asgeir called for one of the serving women to bring food and drink to the room, Harry moved to the window and stared out the cold glass to the people down below. He could see a group of men unloading a large wagon filled with barrels and crates near the gates to the courtyard, and not far from them were a dozen men armed with bows and arrows shooting at targets set along the far wall.

On the far side of the courtyard he could see a large stone monolith surrounded by a circle of small white stones. A giant sundial, he realized and watched as a group of children played amongst the shadow that the enormous monolith was casting upon the ground.

"Will you join us, Harry?" Asgeir asked. Harry turned. Asgeir and Alrik motioned to a chair in front of the fire. Someone had set more food and drink on the low table between the chairs. Harry sat down, reaching again for the goblet of water.

"Tell me about the Dementors," he asked.

Asgeir frowned, but nodded in agreement and in the light of the fire Harry could see a couple of thin streaks of silver in the man's hair. "What do you know of Azkaban prison?"

Harry shuddered. "I know it's guarded by Dementors," he said, guessing that this was the information pertinent to the conversation.

"It was not always guarded by Dementors," Asgeir told him. "Before the Dementors it was guarded by trolls. But trolls are remarkable stupid creatures and the prison was never very secure. About a hundred and fifty years ago someone came up with the idea of finding a darker creature to guard the prison. There were stories back then about a place called the Well of Despair and a terrible creature that lived at the bottom. Men from the Ministry of Magic came here to the Winter Lands looking for this Well of Despair. They found it deep in the heart of our woods. It was sealed with an enormous capstone. They used their magic to remove the capstone and waited for this creature to emerge. At midnight, on New Years Eve, two Dementors emerged from the Well. The Ministry wizards took those Dementors and set them to guard Azkaban.

"One year later on New Years Eve, two more Dementors emerged from the well and the Ministry took them as well. For fifty years they came here once a year and took the Dementors that came up from the Well of Despair. By the end of those fifty years they had one hundred ruthless guards for Azkaban Prison and they did not return again."

Harry pulled his jacket more firmly around his shoulders, thinking of the Dementors that still guarded Azkaban to this day, the creatures that were still hunting for his godfather. "What does that have to do with the Dementors that are here?"

"When the Ministry left the Winter Lands, they failed to replace the capstone over the Well of Despair. By then that area of our woods had been deemed cursed by our people and claimed by the Grendlings, and no one ever went there any more. We did not know that the Well was still open. On New Years Eve two more Dementors emerged from the Well, but this time there was no one there to take them away. Years went by and every year two more Dementors appeared. Eventually my people took notice and realized what had happened. But by then there were dozens of Dementors roaming free in our land. We petition the Ministry to return and seal the Well and take the Dementors away. But they did not answer our summons. It seemed that the Wizard who had orchestrated the deal with the Dementors, and the wizard who had unsealed the capstone in the first place had died. Our request went unnoticed.

"At that time the Wizard Grindelwald was threatening the world and the Ministry was at war trying to stop him. Our requests took a back seat to that battle. The years went by, Grindelwald was defeated, but still our pleas went unheard. Eventually He Who Must Not Be Named rose to power and the Winter Lands were all but forgotten. A hundred years have gone by and the Ministry still ignores us. My people have lived in these lands for three thousand years. We know how to fight the Grendlings and the Giants and the Black Wyrms that dwell in the mountains. But we have no defense against the Dementors. No way to stop them when they swallow up our villages and devour the souls of our children. And still the Ministry ignores us." There was anger in his voice, and a terrible rage in his eyes.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, trying to absorb what he had heard. One hundred years -- that meant that there were at least two hundred Dementors roaming free in this land. A veritable army of darkness.

"I still don't understand," Harry informed him. "You must have a thousand wizards in this fortress alone. Dementors can be driven away with a Patronus."

"You have to be able to cast a Patronus, Harry," Alrik told him.

"All it takes is a powerful memory," Harry insisted. "I can teach you. I learned to cast one when I was thirteen."

The two men exchanged a silent look. "Harry, do you have any idea how many wizard and witches there are in the world?" Alrik asked, startling Harry with the non sequitur.

Harry frowned, wondering what on earth that could have to do with the Patronus charm. "No," he admitted. "Tens of thousands I would assume."

Both men smiled grimly, and Harry suspected he had gotten the number wrong. "Harry, five percent of the world's population is magical."

Harry's eyes widened at that and he tried to do the math in his head. He knew the population of the world was currently approaching six billion. "That would mean that there were nearly . . .three hundred million of us!" He had no idea the number was so great.

Alrik nodded. "The current population of Great Britain is nearly 60 million people. That means that in Great Britain alone there are nearly three million wizards and witches. Now of those three million approximate 20 percent of them are between the ages of 11 and 18. How many students currently go to Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned. "Nearly four hundred."

"Four hundred out of approximately 600,000 children," Alrik told him. "Where do you imagine those other children are schooled?"

Harry just stared at him in disbelief. He knew there were other schools -- Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but those schools were in France and Germany who would have their own large population to deal with. "Aren't there other schools?"

But Alrik shook his head. "Not for magic. All the others are schooled at home by their parents. They learn whatever spells they are capable of casting, and make due. Only the elite go to Hogwarts, the best of the best. The four hundred students that are currently at your school are not even one percent of those 600,000 children. Do you understand how much stronger you are than the rest of us? Even the worst student at your school has more power at his command than the average wizard or witch. The elite of our society barely even notices that the rest of us exist."

Asgeir motioned with his hand to the fortress around him. "This is one of twelve strong holds on the Winter Lands, each with a population of thousands. My son here is one of five wizards out of our all our people who was educated in one of the Wizarding Schools."

"I went to Beauxbatons," Alrik explained. "I'm fairly good at transfiguration." He drew his wand and waved it over one of the goblets, transforming it into a spoon. "But I can't cast a Patronus. I never could. Most wizards can't. Did you not wonder why the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are so feared? They can kill a dozen men with a single curse. They use the Unforgivables the way the rest of us use cleaning charms. Only a tiny fraction of wizards are ever able to cast the Unforgivables. The rest of us can't even conceive of it."

Harry rose to his feet and began pacing the small room, trying to get his mind around what he was being told. Four hundred students out of a potential 600,000. It didn't seem possible. The very idea that someone as poorly skilled as Neville Longbottom far out shone nearly all the wizard and witches in the world -- it couldn't be true.

"Have you never wondered why wizards have brooms when they are capable of apparating?" Alrik asked. "Or why we have clothiers when we could just transfigure a leaf or a twig into any item of clothing we want? Why are not all wizards rich if they could conjure gold out of thin air?"

Truthfully, Harry had never thought of those things. He could see now that perhaps he should have. The answer was simply that most wizards and witches could not do these things.

He found himself staring out the window again at the small group of children playing around the giant sundial. Asgeir rose and stood beside him and for a long moment they watched the children as they played with a tiny ball that darted around the air like a snitch. "They're not squibs," Asgeir told him. "All of them are capable of some sort of magic. But there will be no letters from Hogwarts when they turn eleven. Half of them will never even bother to purchase a wand."

"I thought the Ministry regulated wands. I thought you had to pass your Newts before you were allowed to use a wand as an adult," Harry told him. "If none of you go to school, how do you pass the Newts or the OWLs?"

"That rule is for the elite alone," Asgeir explained, "because of the potential damage you are capable of doing with your wands. You are educated in the practice of magic because you have to be. You are too powerful to be left unschooled. Even your accidental magic can wreak havoc on both our world and the Muggle world. But the same is not true for the rest of the Wizarding World."

"Then your people really do have no defense against the Dementors," Harry whispered, a sense of despair washing over him at the thoughts that were filling his head. "And no defense against Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

Both men flinched at his words, each making the ward against evil. And for the first time in his life Harry understood why they were so afraid of even the Dark Lord's name. Voldemort's powers far exceeded any Dark Lord before him. He was quite literally a god among men.

"Do you see now why the world is so in awe of you?" Asgeir asked. "Do you see now why we thought that by taking you we could turned the eyes of the world to our plight?"

Harry feared finally that he did understand. Voldemort was a god amongst men and yet somehow Harry had stood against him time and time again. If he was to believe what he was hearing, he and his classmates were the elite of their world, and while Harry knew he was not by far the best student, he knew his powers out stripped his other year mates.

It was one thing to imagine the few thousands of wizards and witches he had assumed populated Great Britain forming some sort of coalition to rise up against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters and defeat them. To know now that he was instead dealing with a population of millions, and that for the most part those millions were utterly helpless. If he understood the power discrepancy here, then Voldemort could quite literally take over the world and enslave all of mankind. And there were only a few men in this world, like Dumbledore, and most horrifyingly himself, who could even dream of trying to stop him.

He might have been brought here against his will, but he could see now that these people were just trying to survive against a darkness they were no match for. If he truly was one of the elite of their world, then he had a duty to at least try to help them.

"The Ministry is at war over me," he told Asgeir. "Some of the most powerful wizards and witches of our world are fighting for the position of Minister of Magic. I am a prize chess piece in their political game. Did it not occur to you that by kidnapping me all you may have succeeded in doing is bringing an army of powerful wizards down upon you? They may simply choose to take me back by force, instead of giving you the aid you asked for."

Both men paled at that. "We know that's a possibility," Asgeir admitted. "But we had to do something."

Harry could imagine that already there were at least three very powerful and very angry wizards who would be hunting them. He knew the damage Severus, Sirius and Remus could do if pushed. He looked at Alrik. "You married Diana Snape. Why not ask Severus for help?"

"Ask a Death Eater to aid us?" Alrik asked.

Harry bristled at the comment. "He's not. . ."

"I know," Alrik cut in. "But I only came to believe that recently."

"Then why not go to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, trying to understand why they didn't try some other option.

"How?" Alrik asked. "We told you that the Ministry has ignored our petitions for a hundred years. How are we supposed to get access to someone like the great Albus Dumbledore? Kings and Pharaohs the world over have trouble getting an audience with him. He is the most sought after wizard in world."

Harry sat down hard in his chair. He regularly wandered up to the Headmaster's office and chatted with him. He ate with him every night in the Great Hall. He'd played Exploding Snaps with him just two days ago at Christmas time. Could they all truly be that isolated from the rest of their people? Were they all so blind that they could not see what was going on around them? But he knew the answer to that even as he thought it. He hadn't even known a place like the Winter Lands even existed.

"What is it that needs to be done?" he asked, rubbing his temple as he tried to clear his head.

"What do you mean?" Asgeir asked.

"You need the Well of Despair sealed up, correct?" Harry pressed. "What does the Ministry have to do to seal it up?"

"The capstone must be replaced," Alrik told him. "It needs to be moved back over the hole and sealed down."

A stone needed to be moved. Harry shook his head. "You said there were thousands of you here in the Winter Lands. What if you all joined your magic and moved the stone together?"

"Have you ever done magic in tandem with another person?" Asgeir asked him curiously.

Harry shook his head. It was not something he could ever remember being taught.

"Combining the magic of two wizards is one of the hardest spells there is," Asgeir explained. "That is why the Dark Mark is so feared. It joins the magic of the Death Eaters to the Dark Lord. None of us here has the skill or strength to combine such magic together."

"Then what about a Muggle solution?" Harry asked. "Surely the stone can be moved with some sort of Muggle machinery? The have cranes that can lift thousands of pounds. How big is this stone?"

Asgeir pointed to the giant monolith outside. "It is at least twice the size of that, like the stones of Stonehenge. At least ten thousand pounds. And the crane would do us no good. It's a magical artifact -- it has to be moved by magic and only magic can seal it in place."

Ten thousand pounds. He stared at the monolith outside. "And none of you can move something that size?" he asked.

"I once lifted two cases of ale," Alrik told him. "They probably weighed about eighty pounds total. Why do you think we were so startled when you transported those eight bodies here? We've never seen anything like that before."

And Alrik was the one who had been to Beauxbatons. He tried to remember the heaviest thing he'd ever seen a wizard levitate. Professor Flitwick regularly levitated the Great Hall's Christmas trees through the front door, but he had no idea how much a Christmas tree weighed. But it was just a stone, he reasoned. Why not cast a feather light charm on it first and then lift it? He'd lifted his trunk regularly with Wingardium Leviosa and couldn't ever remember feeling any sort of strain. He'd never even thought about how heavy it might be -- it was just something you did. It was magic.

He got to his feet, and with a determined look on his face headed toward the door. "Harry?" Asgeir asked in concern. Both men rushed after him, but made no effort to stop him as he strode swiftly to through the Hall beyond. Men and women looked up as he passed, but no one tried to stop him.

The door to the courtyard stood open in the morning sunlight and he strode out into the yard, moving across the courtyard toward the sundial. The archers practicing on the range stopped their shooting to watch him and their liege lord as they passed. Several of the warriors who had accompanied Alrik earlier also followed curiously behind.

Harry stopped when he reached the sundial, and stood for a long moment just staring at it as the morning mist swirled about him. Twice this size, he thought. The stone in front of him probably weight between two and three tons. But those warriors today had to have weight nearly two hundred pounds each, never mind the fact that they were missing limbs and blood. He'd lifted eight of them.

Slowly he drew his wand from his jacket pocket and pointed it at the stone. The children playing near it hurried away, moving out of its shadow. Silence fell over the courtyard as everyone turned to watch.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, letting his magic reach out and surround the great stone.

For a single moment nothing happened, and then as they all watched, the stone uprooted itself from the earth and rose silently in the air. Harry stared at it, his wand holding it aloft. He could feel the weight of it now that he concentrated, could feel the power that was rushing through his veins and out through his wand. But it wasn't unbearable. Not at all.

Carefully he set it back down in its bed of earth, letting the ground reabsorbed its weight before he let the spell go. Slowly he lowered his wand arm and turned to face Lord Asgeir. The men and women of Bifrost Hall were staring at him in silent wonder, disbelief in all their eyes.

"I will move the capstone for you," he told Asgeir. "If you can take me to it."

Asgeir nodded his head in wonder. "It lies at the heart of Grendling territory and the Dementors will try to keep you from it."

At his words, Alrik drew his sword and held it before him, hilt pointing upward to the sky. "I pledge my sword and my life to keep the Grendlings from you." His words prompted all the other men in the courtyard to draw their own swords, or to hold aloft their bows, shouting out their support to stand in battle along side him. Men on the walls raised their own weapons to cheer, and though Harry knew all these men had just pledged themselves to die he suspected the glow of hope shining in their eyes was enough to drive all two hundred of the Dementors back.

Asgeir clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Come back inside, my friend. We have a battle to plan." He turned to the men and women around him and raised his voice. "Tonight we celebrate! And tomorrow. . ."

"Tomorrow will take care of itself!" they shouted back in turn.

Asgeir nodded. "Tomorrow will take care of itself."

---------------------

Author's Note: At last Harry has finally learned the truth about the Wizarding world and where he stand in the hierarchy of power. Don't worry, Severus, Sirius and Remus will make an appearance soon.

And for those of you who were asking about the inspiration for the Winter Lands -- you're all thinking of source material that is much too recent. You have to go back over a thousand years. This is all right out of Beowulf.


	30. Chapter 30 Pursuit

Chapter 30 Pursuit

Sirius raced back to Remus' quarters in the castle, the werewolf only steps behind him. Without speaking the two of them began gathering their traveling gear, both changing into heavier dragon-skin leathers and heat-spelled cloaks and gloves. Having only recently returned from a reconnaissance mission for Dumbledore, all their equipment was on ready hand and it took them only moments to prepare.

They then headed down to the dungeons of the castle, neither of them needing to speak to know they were of one mind. They would collect Severus Snape and then head after the men who had taken Harry from Hogwarts.

It should be James traveling with them, Sirius thought. James should be leading them, Remus and Sirius following on either side. Instead Severus Snape now held the prominent place in Harry's life and Sirius couldn't help but think that he had failed his childhood friend in so many ways.

"We could not ask for a better companion in this than Severus," Remus said suddenly, startling Sirius. He glanced at his friend, seeing the knowing look in his amber eyes. It was eerie when Remus did that, almost as if he could read his mind. "Severus will stop at nothing until he is safe."

"And you think James wouldn't have done the same?" Sirius demanded. It was still hard for him to understand why Remus was so accepting of Snape. He had missed the years when Snape's loyalties became known and it was hard for him to see beyond what he remembered of the Slytherin.

"Sometimes ruthlessness is called for," Remus told him. "And James was always too kind."

Sirius shivered. It disturbed him to hear Remus say things like that. He was the kindest, most gentle man he'd ever known. It always startled him when Remus said something that reminded him that he understood the darkness all too well.

They found Diana Snape waiting in a hallway next to a portrait of Salazar Slytherin and a large snake. Considering the potential good that could come of the notebook Harry had translated for Christmas, Sirius could not bring himself to look quite so critically on the Lord of Slytherin any more.

Ignoring the woman, Sirius pounded on the portrait. A moment later it opened and Severus Snape ushered them all inside his chamber. A quick glance at the man assured Sirius that Snape was ready to travel. He too wore black leathers that were hardened with dragon scales. Over that he wore a coat made of black wyvern skins which Sirius knew would turn aside most blades -- it was a style many Slytherin had favored when he was in school.

To his surprise, Snape glared at his sister. "Do you know the Winter Lands?" he demanded of her.

But she shook her head. "No, I've never been there. Alrik has always told me it was too dangerous. I've lived in England all this time."

That seemed to startle Snape. "Alrik does not live with you?"

The woman shrugged, her dark eyes glittering. "One week out of each month only," she admitted. It seemed an odd thing for Snape not to know about his sister, but then Sirius had heard that the man was on poor terms with his family.

"What kind of a marriage is that?"

She glanced briefly at Sirius and Remus, but just shrugged. "I love him, Severus," she said simply. "I take what I can get." She sighed and brushed her black hair back from her pale face. "And truthfully, I like my life in High Hill. I am free to study my books."

"And how long have you known about this plot against Harry?" Severus demanded.

She just gave him a sad smile. "I only just learned of it, right before they left. They told me that so that someone would know to check on the other children and they would not be left alone in the cold."

To Sirius' surprise, Severus sneered at his sister then turned his glare on the two of them. "Come with me," he snapped. He moved into the library and waved his wand at one of the large bookcases on the far wall.

Immediately the bookcase slid aside revealing a wall covered in weapons -- swords, bows, crossbows, axes. It was an impressive collection from all periods of history. The Black family had a similar collection in his ancestral home.

Severus immediately removed a long thin blade that was etched with druidic runes. As he tested the edge he motioned to Sirius and Remus. "Take what you want," he informed them.

Sirius did not hesitate, quickly removing an English long sword from the wall and spinning it in his hand to test its weight and his grip. It was the sword both he and his brother Regulus had been most frequently trained with. It was the weapon he was most comfortable wielding.

"Take one, Lupin," Severus insisted and Sirius turned, seeing Remus still standing by the library door. He knew his friend had never studied the sword, his family too poor to afford such things. And his temperament had never made him suited to duels.

"I never learned to use a blade, Severus," Remus told him with a shake of his head.

Severus cursed under his breath and moved back to the wall, grabbing a large iron mace from its case. Judging by the way Severus hefted it with both hands, grimacing slightly as he lifted, Sirius imaged it was extraordinarily heavy -- a great handle with a large spiked iron ball at the end of it. He held it out to Remus.

"This does not require much skill. Just swing it and bash anything that moves."

Sirius could see the flash of distress in Remus' eyes, but he lifted it lightly out of Severus hands, seeming not to notice the weight at all. It was so easy at times for Sirius to forget the strength the werewolf possessed; he went out of his way to hide it.

"This would split open the head of any man I hit with it," Remus told him.

"And you will use it on any man who tries to stop us," Severus informed him, and Sirius could see now what Remus meant by ruthlessness. "But it is not humans I'm worried about. The Winter Lands are populated with all sorts of monsters. The Dark Forest is tame in comparison."

Remus just nodded, glancing across the room at Sirius. Sirius tried to give him an encouraging smile, but he suspected it failed, as the man did not look heartened. Truth was, Sirius could not bear to think of what danger Harry might be in right now.

Minerva entered a moment later, calling out to the men as she stood in the main chamber. Weapons in hand, they went to join her. She looked them over critically, before handing a traveling satchel to Severus. "There's food in there and the most recent map to the Winter Lands I could find," she explained. "The children have awakened. Hermione said they were hit with some sort of concussion grenade. None of them were damaged but they all have headaches. They did not see the men who took Harry."

"Is Albus back?" Severus asked.

But Minerva shook her head. "You know how the Ministry is."

"We can't wait," Severus decided, though he glanced at his sister. "Are you going to stay here?"

She nodded. "It's the least I can do. I'll watch your classes for you if you are not back before then."

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded in agreement. "Are you going to plead for me to spare his life?"

Sirius turned away at that. That was the sort of question his own father might have asked. He would never understand the Slytherins.

"Would it do any good?" Diana asked, her voice filled with bitterness. "He kidnapped your bond-mate. I have always believed you to be a good man, but you have never been a merciful one."

To Sirius' surprise, Minerva did not berate Severus for his cruel words. "Be careful you three," she said simply as if not concerned that this man had just threatened to kill his sister's husband. Granted if any harm had come to Harry, Sirius would do it himself ... but still.

Severus shrank the pack Minerva had given him, and grabbed his own cloak from the couch. Remus and Sirius followed him out of the dungeons.

Hagrid was waiting for them at the doors to Hogwarts, holding a Wizarding-lantern against the darkness creeping into the corners. "Lock the gates when we leave," Remus told him. "If word gets out that Harry is missing, this place will be overrun with Aurors and reporters."

Hagrid nodded. "Bring him home," he urged and watched as the three of them disappeared into the night.

They walked swiftly out past the apparition wards on the castle. "Do you know the apparition point for Hallow Hill in Icefell?" Severus asked them, naming a small seacoast point in the northern most unplottable county of Britain. Both of them nodded. "I'll see you there. There will be a warden on duty at the dock so I suggest you transform first and have Lupin take you." With that, Severus disapparated.

Sirius glanced at Remus who just gave him a grim smile. He pulled in his magic and let himself transform, feeling his body shifting and molding into the familiar form of Padfoot. The transformation was a bit slower than usual due to the sword he was now carrying -- he was unused to transmuting iron with the spell, but he was not willing to leave the weapon behind.

When it was done, Remus crouched down beside him and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his body. For a moment he reveled in the warmth of his companion, and then he was being pulled away, across the land, by Remus' magic.

They reappeared on a wooden dock in the small town of Hallow Hill. Immediately Sirius was buffeted by the ice-cold wind blowing in across the small bay. It was too dark to see beyond the hills of the inlet to the vast open ocean beyond. There were small fishing boats moored along the docks, ranging in size from small two man crafts to much larger vessels. None of them were of Muggle design, none of them powered by engines.

Severus was already speaking with the dock master and Remus and Padfoot made their way over to them.

"I saw them," the old man was saying to Severus as they approached. "Large group of Brand's man from the Winter Lands. They had their own long boat with them, great hulking beast with thirty oars."

"How long ago did they leave?" Severus asked.

The old man scratched his head beneath the thick wool cap he wore. "Must have been nearly two hours ago. Came in on a port key, large group of them."

"Was there a boy with them?" Remus demanded.

But the man shrugged. "I didn't notice. Crazy though to come across the sea this time of year."

"We'll need a boat," Severus informed him, glancing up and down at the lot moored to the dock. "That one there." He pointed to a long boat with ten oars in total, five on either side. It sat low in the water, but with high sides and a tall prow and stern for cutting through the high waves of the sea. Sirius knew it would be a rocky journey, but the boat would be far safer than brooms. The wind currents above the ocean this time of year would make flying impossible, and the unplottable wards around the Winter Lands made it impossible to apparate to.

The old man just shook his head, but made a motion to the boat. "It's your funeral," he told them. "I wouldn't want to go out this time of night myself, but have at it. But I'll be holding the price of the boat till your return. Sixty galleons and not a knut less."

Severus handed over a pouch of gold without thinking then motioned to Remus and Padfoot to follow him.

Sirius awkwardly hopped into the boat, scratching his claws on the wooden planks as he tried to find his footing. Remus joined him, sitting down on one of the wooden benches and grabbing hold of Padfoot's fur to steady him. He leaned heavily against his friend's leg, grateful for the company.

Severus seated himself and pulled his wand from his sleeve. A quick spell and the boat untied itself, the oars springing to life. They moved out across the water, using the light from the docks to guide them as they steered away from the shore.

When they were well clear of the docks and out of sight of any curious eyes, their boat swallowed up by the darkness of the bay, Padfoot transformed back into Sirius. Severus was already removing the map from the pack Minerva had given him, using a small lumos spell to brighten their work area as he spread the map out on one of the wooden benches.

"You remember the navigation spell?" Remus asked.

Sirius nodded. "I'll guide the boat, you lock the map."

Severus' eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as Sirius drew his wand and pointed it at the prow of the boat. Remus pointed his own wand at the map and muttered a long incantation. On the map, near the drawing of the shoreline, a small plaque appeared in the shape of a small boat, it glowed faintly and began moving slowly across the map page. Had Severus been familiar with the Marauder's Map he would have recognized the design.

Once Remus was done with his spell, Sirius finished his own spell, connecting the guidance spell directly to the shape on the map.

"Where do we want to land, Severus?" Remus asked, motioning to the shape of the Winter Land upon the map.

Severus seemed to understand what it was the two of them were doing and did not ask for clarification. He pointed to a spot on the map. "Bifrost Hall is here. They would have taken the shortest route, so they would have landed here." He pointed to a spot on the shoreline of the Winter Land. Sirius locked his navigation spell on the spot he indicated. Immediately a silvery line appeared on the map connecting the moving placard of the boat to the landing site. The boat automatically turned to that course guiding itself now through the water. Now all they had to do was wait and pray that they reached Harry before anything bad could happen to him.

Severus rolled up the map and the three of them sat in silence. As they moved out of the relative calmness of the bay, they were struck by a bitterly cold wind and the boat began to rock violently in the waves. Several buffering charms eased the motion some, but they could all see it was not going to be a pleasant journey. Sirius couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Harry who was bound to have a headache from the concussion grenade he'd been hit with. He was just grateful that Harry was not prone to motion sickness.

He and Remus shared one of the benches in the center of the boat, the ride somewhat smoother there, and Sirius found himself moving closer to his friend for warmth. When Remus made no effort to move away, he cast a warming charm over the cloak he had brought with him and slipped it over both their shoulders, using the cover to slide his arm around Remus' waist. Remus smiled faintly at him and to his surprised moved closer to him, settling into his side. He'd rebuffed most of Sirius' prior flirtations, so this was a welcome change.

But then perhaps he did not see this as a flirtation -- it was more an act of comfort on both their part. Sirius did not want to admit it, but he was frightened. While Diana had insisted this kidnapping had nothing to do with Voldemort, they could not be certain. And even if she were right, there were other dangers in the world. The Winter Lands was no place for an unprotected child. He doubted Harry even knew that such a place existed. He'd been startled to learn that England possessed unplottable counties. He probably could not imagine that there were entire countries that the Muggles knew nothing about out there in the world.

He found himself staring at Severus as they sailed silently through the waters. The man was sitting near the front of the boat, several feet away from both of them. He was ignoring them, his dark eyes scanning the waters around them though Sirius knew he could not see anything. The sky was overcast and they could see neither moon nor stars over head. The glow from the lumos spell that he'd cast on the bench between them was all the light they had to see by.

Severus seemed as grim-faced and bitter as Sirius had ever seen him. The wind whipped his black hair around his head and the night cast heavy shadows along the harsh planes of his face. There was no beauty in him, no gentleness at all, Sirius thought. He did not deserve someone like Harry and Sirius could not understand why someone like his own gentle Remus could bring himself to trust him.

He's on our side, Remus and Dumbledore had both told him, time and time again. And according to both men he had tried to save James and Lily, warning Dumbledore when he had learned that Pettigrew had betrayed them. But even still -- from what Sirius could see there was no light within him. He did not smile, did not joke, did not laugh. He seemed to take no joy in anything beyond berating and tormenting his students.

He was brilliant at potions -- Sirius would grant him that. And the idea that there might soon be a cure for his poor Remus . . .he tightened his hold around the werewolf. As long as he lived he would not forget the look of desperate hope he had seen in Remus' eyes on Christmas Day when Harry had explained what his gift was.

Strange, Sirius thought. He had not doubted for one minute that Snape would make the potion for them. It hadn't even occurred to him that the man might refuse, and he wondered what that said about his feelings.

But of course he would not refuse, Sirius reasoned. Pride alone would make him do it -- something no other Potion Master save Salazar Slytherin had ever done. And in a way he was duty bound as well -- Harry was his bond-mate, and Remus was, in Harry's mind, family. Sirius would have to concede from what he'd seen, Snape had been taking his duties as Harry's bond-mate quite seriously.

He frowned at the man, trying to figure out what made him tick. As he stared, he noticed that Snape had a cloak draped across his knees, one hand clutched almost compulsively in is folds. That was odd; the man was already wearing a cloak. Why would he need two? Though there was something familiar about the one in his hands.

"What's the second cloak for, Snape?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Snape's hand tightened on the cloak as if he thought Sirius might take it from him, but his face remained hard and unreadable. "It's Harry's," he said simply. "He forgot to put it on."

Sirius stared hard at the man, but he did not react, did not turn. His face gave nothing away. But still his hand held tightly to that cloak, almost the way Sirius himself was holding on to Remus. Possessiveness, he thought. But was that why he was holding Remus? He didn't think so -- it was comfort he was seeking and trying to give. But why would Snape seek comfort from a cloak?

He wouldn't, his mind reasoned. But it did imply something -- implied that Snape believed Harry was going to need that cloak and that Snape was going to be able to give it to him. It also implied that he was worried that Harry might be cold.

It struck Sirius suddenly that for whatever reason, as impossible as it seemed knowing what he did about the Slytherin, that Severus Snape cared about his godson. In a weird way, seeing his hand clutching tightly to a cloak Harry had forgotten said more than any words Severus might offer.

He glanced at Remus only to find that the man was also looking at Severus, staring at the cloak draped over his knees. There was a sad look in the werewolf's eyes and a faint curve to his lips that Sirius knew was a smile of sympathy. But then Remus always had been quicker with things that he was.

My God, he thought, the realization hitting him like a punch to his gut. Snape actually cared about Harry. Snape might even love Harry. He found himself resting his head against Remus' shoulder, his heart aching for things he could not explain. What on earth was this world coming to?

-----------------------------------------

Author's Note: Several people have asked about Alrik's motivation in failing to ask Severus for help and also his involvement in the whole Julius affair -- so I thought I'd mention something in a note. First, Alrik has no reason to trust Severus, and never has. He has believed for 20 years that the man was a Death Eater, and as we have seen the rest of the world has cause not just to hate the Death Eaters but to be truly afraid of them. Beyond that, he knows Severus was a Slytherin and participated freely in 'blood sports', to the point where he has a very vicious reputation among the Slytherin elite. Even if he was proven not to be a Death Eater, this part of his reputation is at least true. As far as Alrik is concerned, asking Severus for aid would be pointless, and possibly dangerous to not only his life but to the lives of his people. 

As for his involvement in the Julius affair -- first as Diana mentioned Alrik actually spends the majority of his time in the Winter Lands and commutes to visit his wife and his daughters (none of whom he will bring to the Winter Lands for fear of the danger they would be in). It is not likely that he knows Julius all that well -- and certainly he would not have been part of the 'plotting' that might have gone on between Marcellus and Claudius prior to the dinner -- if indeed any plotting went on at all. (It's more likely they simply left Julius to his own devices -- that seems more in character, apathy rather than out-right vindictiveness.)

But after noticing Julius' absence, and guessing where Harry might be, Alrik would have likely found the situation amusing and simply decided to sit back and watch to see how the boy handled it. He comes from a warrior society -- someone in Harry's position would be expected to be able to take care of himself. It would have also given him the perfect opportunity to see how Severus reacted --- remember he was counting on Harry's value to the upper echelons of society to determine if he was worth kidnapping. Watching Severus panic and race desperately after him would have only cemented his belief that if he took Harry, the elite of the Wizarding World would do what they asked to get him back.


	31. Chapter 31 Drawing Closer

Chapter 31 Drawing Closer

It took hours for them to reach their destination. Buffering spells kept the boat sailing smoothly, and shielding spells kept the worst of the wind and the water spray off them. Still, it wasn't a pleasant journey, the waiting getting to all three of them more than anything.

They check the map frequently, watching the tiny image of their boat getting closer and closer to the shoreline. When they finally approached, the night had largely passed, and the eastern sky was already beginning to brighten with dawn. Harry had been gone for hours; there was no telling what might have happened to him in that time.

Upon reaching the shore, they dragged the boat up onto the rocky bank, noticing immediately several Viking long boats already tied nearby. Remus headed straight for one of them, grabbing the prow and pulling himself up to peer inside. He jumped down a moment later, his eyes gleaming in the predawn light.

"Harry was in this one," he announced. "The scent is still strong." Sirius grinned -- those werewolf senses would take them straight to Harry now that he'd gotten the scent.

They grabbed up their gear, Sirius and Severus both strapping their swords to their backs while Remus hefted the iron mace over one shoulder. They could see the treeline ahead, the dark expanse of forest looming before them.

"Move as silently as you can," Snape told the two of them. "I remember reading about a cat-like creature called Grendlings that hunt in packs in these woods. I'd just as soon not lead them right towards us."

With that the three of them headed off, Remus taking up the lead as they followed Harry's trail into the forest.

By Sirius' estimate they had gone perhaps five miles when Remus stopped suddenly, holding up his hand for silence. Knowing the werewolf could hear and smell things they could not, both Sirius and Severus froze, waiting for him to give them some sign of what had caught his attention. He sniffed the air, his face looking pale in the growing morning light. Then he moved quickly back toward them and spoke softly in muffled tones.

"I can smell blood up ahead," he informed them. "And there's something moving in the woods off to the south. It's still far away but stay quiet so that we don't attract its attention."

Both men nodded and they followed Remus forward, moving more cautiously through the trees. They had walked for several more minutes in absolute silence when they came across the source of the blood Remus had mentioned. Ahead of them in a small clearing were the bodies of animals. They were huge, black-furred creatures with muscled bodies and long claws. There was indeed something cat like about them, but their hind quarters were oddly shaped as if perhaps they could walk upright as easily as they walked on all fours. The ground around them was black with blood and they could see that these animals bore the marks of sword wounds.

All three of them moved carefully forward, scanning the ground and avoiding the pools of blood. Remus hissed suddenly in shock, and crouched down to pick something up from the ground. Sirius stared in sickened horror when he realized that the item he was holding was a human hand.

It made them all search the bodies more closely, each dreading the discovery that one of the dark bloody lumps upon the ground might be a human body. Remus however stopped his search suddenly, and moved swiftly toward them, grabbing Sirius by the arm and pulling him toward Severus, motioning to Severus to move away from the blood. Neither men questioned him, trusting his judgment, but they both looked to him for an explanation. Remus' face was deathly pale.

"We have to keep moving. There's a faded warding ring around the clearing," he whispered as they walked. "I crossed over one of the stronger residues. I recognized the feeling -- it was made by Harry's Patronus. He leaves a very distinctive vibration behind."

Sirius felt his heart begin thumping hard in his chest, a cold panic washing over him. It meant of course that Harry had been alive and in possession of his wand when this had happened; it also meant that Harry had been in the center of the conflict that quite obviously had taken human lives. But ultimately it meant that there had been Dementors here. There was no other reason for Harry to have cast a Patronus.

They moved swiftly and silently through the slowly brightening woods, Remus leading the way. But after about a mile further, Remus motioned for them to stop and he stood with his head cocked to one side, listening intently for some sound. Sirius had to restrain himself from transforming into Padfoot so that the dog's more sensitive nose and ears could pick up whatever sounds and smells were disturbing the werewolf. But he knew that while Padfoot was certainly able to run faster than he could as a man, he would be far more useful in a fight as a human.

Remus moved toward them again, his face grave. "They know we're here," he told them. "We're being cut off. They've been traveling parallel to us south of here but they're ahead of us now, and moving to block our path forward."

His words caused Sirius heart to begin pounding again. All those years that they roamed the Dark Forest with Moony, he'd come to understand the nature of the hunt. And after years of being hunted by the Dementors, he knew what it meant to be prey.

"Are you sure it is us they are hunting?" Snape asked.

Remus nodded grimly. "I know when we're being hunted."

"How many?" Sirius asked. "And can you tell what they are?"

"Ten at least," Remus replied. "And I would guess that they're these Grendlings you mentioned. They smell vaguely cat-like. There is the scent of blood with them so it's probably the remains of the pack that attacked Harry's group."

"And the Dementors?" Sirius asked, knowing just how deadly they could be in a fight. Their power was in the distraction they provided -- the ability to completely overwhelm an opponent so that something else could slip past your guard.

But Remus shook his head. "Harry's Patronus would have driven them far away. It will be a day at least before they try to return to the area. I think it's just the Grendlings we have to contend with."

He turned then, stiffening. "They're coming."

The three of them moved so that they stood with their backs to each other; Sirius held his wand in his dominant hand and his sword in the other. In a duel the wand was his greatest weapon so he had been trained to use the sword in his left. Beside him he saw Severus and Remus do the same, the werewolf hefting the huge iron mace as if it weighed nothing.

They did not have long to wait. Amid the sound of crashing branches, large furry bodies flung themselves at them, red eyes burning in the shadows. And then the beasts were on them, tooth and claws flashing deadly in the morning light.

The three men all knew to use the most deadly of spells in a fight like this -- and Sirius let loose with a stunning blast of fire that caught the first creature in the chest, lifting it off the ground. He flung it with bone breaking force against a tree. He swung his sword at the next, blocking the strike aimed as his stomach before hitting it with another blast of his wand. Behind him he could hear Remus and Snape shouting their own spells and the woods were lit red with blasts of fire and lightning. The screams of the Grendling and the sickening bone-crunching blows of Remus' mace were deafening. Sirius was vaguely aware of the spray of blood striking his face his sword struck the throat of one of the creatures. He basted one more moving body and then grew still as he realized that nothing else was moving. Turning swiftly he raked his gaze over Remus to assure himself that the man was unhurt. He too was splattered with blood but none of it appeared to be his.

"Is that all of them?" Severus demanded, his own sword dripping with blood.

"Yes," Remus assured them "Are either of you hurt?"

Sirius took a moment to evaluate himself. Something had managed to strike his left leg, but it hadn't cut through the tough dragonskin he was wearing. "Bit bruised but in one piece."

"I'm fine," Severus confirmed as they took in the dead creatures around them. There were nine in total, and Sirius could not help thinking that had there been a few more, they wouldn't have escaped unscathed. None of them were used to this sort of fighting. Sirius did not want to think about what it might have been like for them to have had Dementors attack in the middle of such an battle. Harry had already seen such horror in his young life, to be dragged into this was heartbreaking.

"Let's keep moving," Snape urged. Remus, who was making some attempt to shake off the grizzly remains embedded in the spikes of his mace, nodded in agreement and took up the lead once more. Sirius had to admire the man's fortitude. Nothing kept Remus down for long. His ability to endure everything life threw at him was one of the reasons Sirius loved him so much.

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Alrik and Asgeir gathered a large group of warriors in the main hall of the Keep. The eldest was gray-haired and scarred, the youngest no more than three or four years older than Harry. There was a ranking order among the men that Harry could see based on who stepped forward to study the great map that Asgeir laid on the table. The youngest warriors were forced to stand in the back, deferring to the older more experienced men. Harry felt awkward and uncomfortable as he realized that despite being the youngest, all of the men deferred to him. He was given a spot between Asgeir and Alrik and all of the men were watching him. More than once he heard someone whispering the moniker 'the boy who lived'. The younger warriors were peering over shoulders to catch a glimpse of his infamous scar.

They pointed out the location of the Well and the stone to Harry on the large map explaining in detail the lay of the land and what they might encounter. The Grendlings would attack in mass, he was told, and they would take a large number of both swordsmen and archers to deal with them. There was also the potential that the Black Wyrms might come down out of the mountains and attack. It took Harry a few minutes to realize that the Wyrms they were talking about were in fact some breed of dragon.

Despite what he'd been told about Muggle weaponry, he couldn't help but think that a few machine guns and grenade launchers might come in handy. Certainly they would do more damage than a sword. But he held his opinion to himself for once, feeling far too out of his depth to speak up. As far as he could see, there was no sign of Muggle technology in this society. Instead they spoke of something called Wizarding Steel, and he found himself wondering if perhaps there wasn't some sort of spell on their swords to make them more accurate.

They showed him the most defensible position around the Well as he would apparently be required to not only lift the capstone, but also transport it thirty feet to the Well itself.

"The moment we approach the Well, the Dementors are sure to come," Alrik told him. "How many can your Patronus hold off?"

Harry frowned. There had been at least fifty of them that night during third year when he and Sirius had been attacked. He suspected his Patronus could hold off as many as necessary, but he saw another problem.

"I'm certain I can hold them all off," he told Alrik. "Or at least drive them back, but that is not the problem. The Patronus is a free-formed but directed spell and the Levitation spell is continuous. "

"That means that once you begin moving the stone, you will no longer be able to direct your Patronus beyond a single final command?" Asgeir guessed.

Harry nodded. "I can tell it to attack the Dementors, but I have no guarantee that it will go after all of them or simply single one out and chase it down. Is there anyone here who can cast the charm?"

"Beyond what you saw earlier, no," Alrik informed him. Harry glanced at Bjorn and Gudrik. To his surprise neither man looked insulted. Though it seemed inconceivable to Harry he suspected that the Patronus was so far out of their reach that he might as well be asking them to fly to the moon.

"We know the risks," one of the men told Harry, a grim, determined look on his face. "All of us have lost someone to those creatures. If you can seal that infernal hole, we're willing to take the chance."

"Sealing that hole is not going to get rid of the 200 that are already here," Harry told them, his stomach knotting with the thought of what these men were going to be facing. And all for so little reward. He was going to lead these men into battle, and he would have to watch them die, watch them lose their souls to the Dementors. And for all his magic, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

"We'll deal with that problem afterward," Asgeir informed him. "Worry about the problem we can actually do something about."

He understood the practicality of his words, but it went against his nature to have to face such a failure and call it a victory. It reminded him too much of the Eye of Odin. The Wizarding World counted that a victory, but Harry could not help but think of all the good men and woman who lay dead on the field afterwards.

They spent a while longer going over the battle strategies, Harry remaining silent through much of it. Strategy had always been Ron's strong suit, not his, and he figured these men who had been warriors all their lives knew far better than he did what to do. But still they looked to him for approval, deferring to him as if he were some leader like Asgeir. The weight of their hope was heavy on his shoulders, and he could not remember a time he had ever felt so alone.

When all was said and done, the men headed off to prepare armor and weapons and no doubt to spend a last night with their families. They would head out at first light tomorrow, and Harry knew many would not be coming back. He found himself silently cursing the Ministry for allowing such a thing to happen.

With his own family safely in High Hill, Alrik had no such distraction and offered instead to show Harry around Bifrost Hall. Grateful for the distraction, Harry went with him, determined to educate himself more completely on how the rest of the Wizarding World lived.

He saw no sign of the Muggle influence in the Bifrost community to the point that even the pair of blue jeans he was wearing was out of place. These people lived life much the way their ancestors must have, and had probably done so for centuries.

And yet at the same time, he saw no signs of stagnation. Despite their lack of magical prowess, magic infused every aspect of their lives and improved them much the way technology improved the lives of Muggles. It seemed that magic amongst this community was far more specialize than it was at Hogwarts. People had one magical strength, and they stuck to it, relying on those around them for other things. And there was no lack of magical items either -- everything from magical farming tools to brooms, though he did notice that broom travel seemed somewhat restricted. He supposed with the constant threat of Dementors, it just wasn't safe to travel beyond the walls of the fortress.

During the brief tour of Bifrost Hall, Harry got some idea of how large the castle was -- all the families and local farmers lived with the fortress walls, well protected from the Dementors and Grendlings. The walls kept the Grendlings from entering, and the wards kept the Dementors out. But men stood in risk everyday when they stepped outside the castle walls to attend their farms. They felt confident that they could deal with the threat of Grendlings, but they had no defense against the Dementors who were growing more bold as their numbers increased.

Eventually Harry made his way back inside the Hall where he soon found himself surrounded by locals who were anxious to speak with him. All of them had grown up listening to stories about the Boy Who Lived, and they had hundreds of question for him that he answered with as much patience as he could. Despite being a part of their rich history, Harry found himself feeling more isolated as it brought home for him just how little he knew about his world.

He was listening to a group of warriors discussing the best way to fight off a pack of Grendlings when the alarm sounded -- a horn blaring from the walls of the Keep.

"Harry," Alrik called as he rushed into the hall. Harry immediately jumped to his feet thinking that perhaps the Dementors were attacking. "Come quickly," Alrik urged. "They'll destroy us if you don't stop them. "

Harry followed him out the door.


	32. Chapter 32 Growing Pains

Chapter 32 Growing Pains

Bifrost Hall appeared through the trees, an enormous castle-keep upon a rocky hill which looked out over the farming plains of the Winter Land beyond the forest. The Brand flag flew from the top most tower, indicating that the lord of the castle was in residence, and though still daylight out, the gates were barred, armed men patrolling the walls of the Keep.

Severus, crouched near a fallen tree, felt Sirius and Remus move up on either side of him. The three men took note of the armed contingent guarding the walls.

"There will be powerful wards on the gate," Severus informed the two men as Remus pointed out several archers that Severus had not noticed hiding in the shadows of the guard towers. "But beyond that there will be very little offensive magic. It will be a physical attack if we're forced to fight, and they'll have some of the best weapons around. Even dragonskin won't turn back their blades."

"Do we mean to attack openly then?" Sirius asked. Severus could tell by the tone of his voice, that he was not necessarily against such a thing, merely more curious than anything else. Remus on the other hand hissed in displeasure.

"Surely we can try negotiation first," he reasoned. "There are women and children inside those walls. I'd rather not risk harming innocents if we can avoid it."

"They started this," Severus reminded the werewolf. "The trick will be to get the wards down as quickly as possible. Once inside the walls, we should be able to subdue the warriors with spells readily enough. Alrik will be the only really magical threat, and he'll be easily dealt with. He has little skill as a duelist."

"Remus and I can get the wards down," Sirius told him. "You just keep those arrows off of us."

Though Severus didn't particularly like the two men, he was aware of the fact that they were both capable of casting magic in tandem, a rare skill. Years of familiarity not to mention the bond between them that they were only just beginning to acknowledge made them a very formidable team. Given enough time, he was certain they could pull all the wards from those ancient walls.

"We only need the wards on one of the gates down," Severus reminded them, knowing that as Gryffindors they would likely overlook this fact and go for total overkill -- such a thing would cost them time he did not want to waste.

"What if they hurt Harry?" Remus asked, voicing a fear they all had.

"We don't give them the chance," Severus insisted. "We move quickly, stop anyone who gets in our way. No wasted time." If he had to, he knew he would take those very women and children Remus had mentioned hostage against Harry's safe return. He would use their own weaknesses against them -- what ever it took to retrieve Harry alive. He did not want to think about the possibility that Harry may have already been injured -- he was alive when he cast that Patronus. He had no reason to doubt that he remained alive still.

Sword in one hand, wand in the other, Severus nodded to the two men. "Let's move." As one they left their hiding place, moving at a swift run across the open ground beyond the forest edge toward the gate of the castle. No sooner had they emerged from the shadows of the forest and began making their way across the snow dusted ground, did they hear the horns on the walls of the castle sounding the alarm. More armed men moved toward the walls, archers raising their bows.

It took them a while to traverse the distance between the edge of the forest and the castle walls. As they ran, Severus felt the two men beside him calling up their powers even as they raised their wands to begin attacking the wards they could feel pulsing through the earth, protecting the ancient gate. Severus threw a shield up as they ran to ward off any arrows that might fly in their direction. But before the two men could throw their first blasting attack at the wall, a man hailed them from the castle.

"Hail, strangers!" he called down to them. "May we render some assistance?"

It was neither a threat nor a warning, a distinction all three of them could understand. And though every instinct in Severus was crying out to simply blast first and ask questions later, he knew he could not, knew also that the two Gryffindors beside him would not attack first when so obviously unprovoked. He was pleased however to note, that while he felt both men reining in the blasting power they had been summoning, neither man lowered their wands. He was reminded constantly that Gryffindor did not necessarily mean stupid.

He had no choice but to answer the hail from the wall.

"Return Harry Potter to us or we will pull down your walls!" Severus shouted up to the man on the battlements, his own wand raised in warning. The shielding spells he had cast pulsed around them, glinting in the pale sunlight.

But before the man could respond, they heard another voice calling from beyond the wall. "Open the gates!" Startled, Severus glanced at his two companions.

"Harry?" Remus murmured in surprise, his heightened senses no doubt making that voice even clearer to him than it had been to Severus.

"Let them through!" the voice shouted again, and this time Severus was positive that had been Harry shouting. Surprisingly, men on the wall moved immediately to do as commanded, and he heard the heavy chains of the great wheels and gears that held the door shut beginning to turn. Severus found himself somewhat at a loss -- how could Harry be issuing orders when it was he who had been kidnapped? What was going on?

But only moments later they saw the great gates to the castle swinging open, and though the men watching from the walls did not relax their stances, the bows and arrows were lowered. A moment later, to Severus shock and utter relief, he saw a slender, familiar figure running through the gate toward them, a dark-haired young man with flashing green eyes who was grinning from ear to ear as if he'd been given the greatest gift imaginable.

Sirius broke first, stepping swiftly forward to meet the form, bracing himself as the young man launched himself at him. Sirius caught him in a bone-crushing hug, crying out his name as a seemingly unharmed Harry Potter hugged him back. A moment later, the boy had moved on and thrown his arms just as enthusiastically around a grinning werewolf, hugging Remus Lupin as he had his godfather.

And then to Severus' surprise, no sooner had he finished hugging Remus, Harry threw his arms around Severus, and for one brief blissful moment Severus found himself with an armful of Harry Potter, his lithe young body pressed intimately against Severus' own, the heat of his body burning past all his defenses and touching something utterly unknown inside him. Severus found himself flushed and befuddled, clinging to the young man with a desperation he didn't want to name. All he knew was that Harry was alive and whole and for whatever insane reason was momentarily in his arms. Though the hug lasted only a moment, he knew he would never forget that moment as long as he lived.

It wasn't until Harry had drawn back and turned toward the grinning Sirius and Remus that Severus became aware of the group of men moving more sedately through the gate toward them, not to mention the crowd of people gathered around the gate watching in curiosity.

Severus immediately recognized Alrik in the crowd and his anger and protective instincts returned full force. That something unexpected was going on here, he had no doubt. Harry did not appear to be a prisoner. But that did not change the fact that this man, his brother-in-law, had betrayed his trust and kidnapped his bond-mate.

No sooner did he identify Alrik than he raised his wand again, his face hardening with his displeasure. Harry, still laughing with his two fellow Gryffindors, notice the change in his demeanor and swiftly stepped between Severus and his prey. Finding his bond-mate at the other end of his wand startled Severus greatly. "Harry!" he hissed, drawing his wand back in alarm -- had the boy no sense at all, stepping in front of him like that!

The action though had stopped the advance of the men approaching, and though not one of them raised a weapon against them, he could see the wariness in all their eyes. Indeed Harry raised his face toward the wall where the watching archers were still poised -- one hand upraised toward them as if to warn them against firing off any shot.

"Severus, stop!" Harry insisted. "Things are not as they seem. Please!"

Severus stared at the boy in confusion -- indeed Remus and Sirius were watching the proceedings uncertainly now, glaring at the warriors mistrustfully. Harry frowned and inclined his head toward one of the men who proceeded forward, Alrik only steps behind him standing off to one side. There was enough family resemblance that Severus guessed the older man to be Lord Asgeir Brand, lord of these lands.

"Lord Brand," Harry greeted and for a moment Severus was taken aback by the confidence in the boy's voice. "This is my bond-mate, Severus Snape."

Lord Brand inclined his head deferentially to Severus, who though still angry had no choice but to return the gesture, custom demanding it. "Lord Snape, welcome to Bifrost Hall. Please accept our hospitality."

Severus wanted to lash out at him about the courtesy afforded a man who kidnapped another, but Harry had already moved ahead, indicating his godfather.

"And this is--" Harry began only to be cut off by Asgeir's startled voice.

"Sirius Black!" he exclaimed in surprise and a murmur of alarm arose amongst the warriors and the crowd of people beyond the gate. Though isolated from England, the Winter Lands still would have heard all the stories of the infamous murderer Sirius Black, and the three of them had in their haste made no effort to disguise the fugitive. But before any alarm could be raised, or that murmuring of shock could rise in fear, Harry's shout cut them all off.

"My godfather! And an innocent man!" he shouted to the crowd, his eyes flashing with a fierceness Severus had never seen before. "And I will challenge anyone who says differently!"

His words had a remarkable affect on the crowd, dead silence falling over them all. Sirius, Remus and Severus merely stared in startled shock. It was Asgeir who broke the sudden silence, inclining his head graciously to Harry.

"There are none here who would speak against you, Harry Potter, and as the Ministry has abandoned us, your word shall be as law here. Be welcome in my home Lord Black." His words startled Severus even more than Harry's had -- though they would have no bearing on Black's guilt or innocence with the Ministry of Magic, Lord Brand had just offered Sirius Black sanctuary in his land, solely on the word of one boy whom he'd met only hours earlier. That something extraordinary had happened here was certain.

Sirius, rendered speechless by the proceedings, inclined his head to the man as Harry moved on to Remus. "And this is Remus Lupin," he informed Asgeir. "It was he who taught me how to cast the Patronus charm."

Though Lupin's surname would have been unknown, Asgeir bowed to him too as if greeting an equal. "You are also welcome in my home, sir," he greeted. "And indeed we are in your debt for teaching Harry -- that Patronus saved lives this day."

Remus, obviously uncertain about what was going on, merely repeated Sirius' gesture and remained silent. But Harry was grinning now and he stepped back toward the three of them turning to smile at Asgeir. "And now that they're here we can do a hell of a lot more that merely seal up a hole in the ground. The Dementors are no match for them!" Though Severus had no idea what on earth Harry was talking about, the crowd of people around them obviously did for there were suddenly cheers of approval and questioning murmurs as Harry's words were repeated through the crowd.

"Harry, what on earth. . ." Sirius began, Remus and Severus moving in closer to hear what explanation they could over the rising voices of the people around them.

But Asgeir motioned them all back toward the gate. "Come inside," he welcomed. "We'll explain everything." He called out to the men at the gate to usher all the crowd back inside and before Severus knew it he felt Harry tugging on his arm, pulling him toward the castle gates. Harry took hold of his arm and Sirius's, Remus falling into step beside them, and led them all inside Bifrost Hall as if they had not been moments before ready to tear the castle to the ground.

They were all led into Bifrost Hall and ushered into a meeting hall where Alrik and Asgeir explained to the three of them what troubles they had been dealing with and the failure of their Ministry to aid them. Sirius Black, having more reason to fear the Dementors than anyone, shuddered at the description of those creatures roaming the land freely, their dark powers unchecked by any spells.

"So you thought kidnapping Harry was a solution?" Severus demanded of his brother-in-law, not so willing to forget the blind terror he had felt on learning that Harry had been taken.

"We were desperate, Severus," Alrik told him, shame in his eyes but no sign of regret. "We had tried everything else -- but when I saw the way people reacted to him that evening in Briarwood I knew no one would ignore us then."

"Ignore you!" Severus had to be physically restrained from rising to throttle the man -- Remus' hand on his shoulder was restraint enough for he was no match against the werewolf's strength. "Did it not occur to you to come to me?"

"I've seen what you are capable of doing, Severus," Alrik said simply. "I did not trust you."

His words were like a slap in the face. Of course he did not trust him -- who did? He was a Death Eater -- at least in the eyes of the Wizarding World. Never mind what he had done to aid the Light -- he was still tainted as far as everyone was concerned, for no other reason that being a Slytherin. Nothing was likely to change that.

"Did it not occur to you that instead of aiding you, you might simply have drawn the wrath of the Ministry and the Wizarding World down upon you?" Severus bit out -- certainly he had been prepared to come here and destroy anyone who stood in his way.

"Harry has said the same words to me," Alrik admitted much to Severus' surprise. He glanced at Harry who was sitting silently beside Sirius Black, both men listening to the proceedings. "It was a risk I was willing to take."

"Really?" Severus smiled coldly at the man. "And what of the other risk, Alrik? Was that one you were willing to take?"

"I knew you would be angry," Alrik began but Severus cut him off.

"I'm not talking about me. What would you have done if the Dark Lord had learned that Harry was here in the Winter Lands and unprotected? What would you have done if Voldemort had come for him instead of me?" All those nearby flinched in horror at the Dark Lord's name, making an old warding sign against evil. Both Alrik and Asgeir had paled considerably, and seemed utterly at a loss for words.

"Severus is right," Sirius told them, his eyes glittering angrily. "All you see are the happy little legends the newspapers print about him, but you forget whose enemy he is. The risk you took in bringing him here was far greater than you know."

"Do you mean to take him from us then?" Asgeir asked in alarm, but Harry answered before anyone else could.

"No," he said quickly and Severus looked at the boy in confusion. He didn't mean to leave after all this?

"Harry?" Sirius questioned looking just as confused.

But Harry only threw the three of them an unreadable glance before turning back toward Asgeir. "I promised you my help, and you will have it. But I think I had best explain things to my family on my own."

Asgeir stood immediately. "Of course," he agreed nodding politely to the three of them. He motioned to his men to back away. "We'll leave you to it. If you need anything please ask."

Severus and the other two turned toward Harry for an explanation. He frowned at them and glanced toward the door at the end of the great hall. "Let's take a walk in the court yard," he suggested. "I could use some fresh air."

They followed him out of the hall without speaking and it did not escape Severus notice how so many eyes in the room followed the young man. What on earth had happened here he wondered? What had Harry meant by 'promise his help'? What had he promised these people who had kidnapped him, and what about that promise made these people so eager to treat the boy with such deference? They had little enough respect for him when they'd struck him with a concussion grenade and tossed him into a boat.

In the pale winter daylight, they walked through the courtyard undisturbed by the inhabitants. Harry paused before an enormous monolithic sundial, and stood staring at the great stone. A glance at the marks on the ground showed it was just past noon.

"Remus," Harry asked suddenly, startling all three of them. "Is it true that five percent of the world's population are wizards?"

The three men glanced at each other in confusion. "Yes, Harry," Remus nodded. "Give or take a few million here or there."

Harry just nodded, thoughtfully. "And is it also true that Hogwarts is the only magic school in Britain?"

"Yes," Remus agreed again.

Harry frowned. "I didn't know that there were so many of us. I suppose Ron and Neville probably knew -- they grew up in this world after all. And Hermione probably knew; it's probably in a book somewhere. But I didn't know. There are over half a million Wizarding children in Britain old enough to go to Hogwarts -- but only four hundred attend. Hagrid said my name was down for Hogwarts since before I was born. I never really knew what that meant until now."

Severus frowned. Could Harry truly not have understood the privileged position he held in their society? He knew Muggles did not hold to the old ways much any more -- they saw their monarchy now as little more than something to read about in the newspapers. But it didn't change the fact that even Muggle children understood status and social structure. And though Muggles liked to believe themselves part of some great equality, they still understood classes and rank.

"You said you had no vote at Christmas, Remus," Harry continued and Severus found himself somewhat bothered by the fact that it was Remus alone Harry was seeking answers from. He had been Harry's teacher a lot longer than Remus had, and yet it was always the werewolf he turned to for information. "You said you had no value as a vassal. But that's not really true, is it?"

Remus frowned at that. "Harry, my nature limits my choices. Magical ability won't change my status in the world."

"Maybe not for the Ministry," Harry agreed. "But it changes everything for these people." He motioned to the men and women working in the castle around them, a bright gleam in his eyes that Severus didn't really understand. Whatever Harry was dealing with, it both upset and moved him, bringing out some emotional response that Severus suspected was quite different from whatever Ron or Hermione or Neville might feel.

"You know when I translated Slytherin's book," Harry said quietly and this time Severus could definitely see something sad in his face. "I thought I found a cure for Lycanthropy. I thought it could cure all werewolves. But it won't, will it -- because most werewolves are just like these people here. They can't cast a Patronus, can they?"

"No, Harry," Remus agreed softly. "Most wizards can't."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking strangely lost and vulnerable. Severus had to fight the impulse to reach out to him. "These people are helpless against the Dementors. I told them I would help them."

And with those words Severus thought at last he understood what was going through Harry's head. He wasn't seeing his position in society as a privilege but as a duty -- a duty to protect and serve those weaker than him.

"Harry, you don't owe them anything," Severus told him firmly. "This is the Gryffindor in you talking. This is the Ministry's job, not yours. You're a sixteen-year-old boy who has not even finished your schooling yet. You're not an Auror, you're not a warrior. This isn't your responsibility."

"Yes, it is," Harry told him.

"Harry," Sirius said gently, touching his godson's shoulder as Severus had wanted to do himself. "Severus is right. This isn't your job. You're still a child. No one expects.. . "

"They took my wand, Sirius," Harry interrupted. Sirius frowned but let Harry continued. "Last night they took my wand, and I felt helpless. I stood there and watched, unable to do anything, while a man's head was ripped from his body." His words made Severus blanch, his heart clenching at the thought of what Harry had gone through -- why, when so many people wanted to protect him, was this boy so tormented?

"I stood there and watched as men were torn apart and then got their souls sucked out by Dementors and I imagine that for those few moments I felt exactly like these people feel all the time -- helpless, powerless."

They could all see the gleam of horror in the boy's green eyes as he spoke, remembering what had occurred the night before.

"And then I got my hands on a wand and drove the Dementors back with a spell I learned when I was thirteen." He looked up at the three of them and there was something hard and painful glittering in his eyes. "I have to help these people because they're brave and strong and good, but they're not capable of doing what has to do be done. I have to help them because I can. I have to help them because they asked. I won't leave until I've done what I've promised, and I'm asking you to help me."

Severus stared at the young man before him, finding himself completely at a loss for words. By all rights he should take Harry back to Hogwarts immediately -- he should take him back there and forbid him to even think about these people or their trouble. But something had change -- something subtle but undeniable, and he could see it shining in those haunted green eyes. They had twice now referred to him a child, but he wasn't a child any more, and perhaps had not been one for a long time. And for the first time Harry seemed to understand that himself -- they could order him back to Hogwarts, but he would not go. They could try to force him, but they would fail. He had seen something, discovered something about both himself and the world that they could not change.

Sirius and Remus both looked at him, and he could tell by the light in their eyes that they too had seen the same thing in Harry. They might all three considering themselves Harry's guardians, but they also understood that they would not sway Harry from his course. At this point Severus doubted even Albus could do that.

"What is it you want us to do?" Severus asked softly, speaking for the other two men as well. He knew neither Sirius nor Remus would abandon him even if Harry asked them to walk through the Gates of Hell.

"Tomorrow we're going into the heart of Grendling country and I'm going to seal up the Well of Despair that the Dementors are coming from. But I can't move the capstone and control the Patronus at the same time. Alrik's warriors can fight off the Grendlings, but I need you three to keep the Dementors away from them. With three Patronus' you might even be able to herd the Dementors back down into the Well and we can trap them back inside -- or at least some of them."

Through the Gates of Hell indeed, Severus thought. The boy was speaking of going to war -- it was as simple as that.

"Harry, do you have any idea how dangerous that will be?" Remus asked him incredulously.

Harry nodded. "I saw the Grendlings fight last night. I've been in enough battles to know what it will be like." And sadly, though only sixteen, none of them could deny his claim.

"Harry," Sirius sighed. "I can't say as I'm thrilled with the idea of going up against so many Dementors." He visible shuddered as he spoke and Severus saw the look of concern that immediately flooded Harry's features. It hadn't occurred to Severus that the former resident of Azkaban might not be able to handle so many Dementors. "But I'll manage if that's what you need. But are you really aware of what it is they're asking you to do? Did they explain to you what a capstone is? How big it is?"

Harry frowned at this in confusion, but nodded his head. "Yes, of course," he told them. He pointed toward the large monolith in the center of the sundial. "They said it was about twice the size of that stone and I moved that one this morning without much difficulty. Even if it's three times the size I should be okay moving it."

All three men turned to stare at the monolith and for a moment Severus found his mind going blank as he tried to process the words Harry had just spoken. When the words had at last repeated themselves two or three times in his brain he found himself flooded with questions he wasn't certain it would be wise to ask. The three men exchanged silent looks and it seemed as if Remus and Sirius were wondering the exact same thing as he was.

Harry, apparently unaware of their turmoil, asked, "Will you help?"

It was Sirius who snapped out of his shock first -- the Gryffindor in him used to agreeing blindly to whatever insanity was asked of him. "Of course we'll help you, Harry," he informed the young man. "Frankly, I'm not letting you out of my sight again, and if you're committed to this crazy plan, then so am I."

If Harry noticed how pale Black was when he said these words, he did not indicate. Instead he just smiled gratefully at the three of them and then urged them back inside where the castle inhabitants had hot food waiting.

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Author's Note: I have a couple more chapters completed before my posts will slow down a bit -- I'm catching up to myself. But don't worry, you will get to see the conclusion of the coming battle first. After that I will post as soon as I finish writing a section. I have a vacation coming up in two weeks time so I should be able to get more written then. (Real life sucks some times!)

Several people have asked how long is this story is going to be. The answer is -- LONG, though I'm still in the process of writing. I mentioned very early on in my notes that Voldemort would earn his title of Dark Lord -- and so far you have not yet seen him make an appearance. Harry, Severus and their odd family have a long road ahead of them yet -- which is probably a good thing since falling in love seems to be a rather slow process for them.

I would like to thank everyone for all the wonderful reviews. If you haven't noticed by now, I've become very remise in responding individually to them. I've become very busy in real life and have had difficulty finding time to write the story, let alone respond to the emails. But I do appreciate all your wonderful and encouraging words. Though most of this story has been planned out in detail, your reviews are shaping the future chapters. You've all given me ideas for details I had not yet considered -- and have raised questions I should have asked myself. I've really enjoyed hearing from you -- to date I've nearly 1500 reviews (I've read them all), 7 marriage proposals (I think it would be illegal to say yes to all of you), and only one flame in the bunch (which was actually rather amusing). Thank you!


	33. Chapter 33 Tall Tales

Chapter 33 Tall Tales

Several hours later Severus found himself sitting next to Remus Lupin at a long wooden table in the main hall. The hall was crowded with people -- warriors who had flooed in from the other fortresses in the Winter Land at a summons from Asgeir --- and they were all feasting heartily before the great battle that was to commence the following day.

Though Harry looked exhausted, he was seated next to his godfather, listening in fascination to a story Sirius was telling a group of warriors about some exploit of his and James Potter's when they had both been Aurors so many years ago. Sirius was very much in his element -- surrounded by lackeys who hung on his every word. Severus could still see the bright young man he had been back in Hogwarts -- it seemed as if even all those years in Azkaban could not entirely diminish that light that had so enamored Remus Lupin.

Indeed the werewolf was watching the proceedings with gleaming eyes, his gaze never leaving Sirius' face though he was careful to school his expression into something less obvious than hero worship. Frankly Severus found the whole thing annoying -- even Harry looked captivated by the Marauder and it made something that felt remarkably like jealousy burn inside Severus.

He turned his thoughts to the conversation they'd had with Harry earlier instead, his mind still focused on that stone. By his estimate it had to weigh between four and five thousand pounds -- perhaps even more than that. And Harry assured them he'd lifted it with little difficulty. He had no doubt in his mind that Albus could do such a thing, or Flitwick. But both those men were masters of Charms. Harry was no master. He of course knew the boy was strong -- they all knew that. But this was more than he had expected.

"Lupin," he interrupted the werewolf's romantic musings. "Could you lift that stone?" Lupin was better than him at charms -- always had been. He'd been top of their class at Hogwarts in the subject.

Remus laughed softly under his breath. "Not even on a good day," he admitted, glancing over at him with an amused look in his eyes. "I've been thinking the same thing all evening. I once levitated a small Muggle automobile but it couldn't have been even half the weight of that stone and it took everything I had."

Severus found himself nodding in understanding -- he'd lifted a number of heavy objects in his life, though not an automobile.

"I thought about saying something to Harry," Remus continued. "But if he said he did it, then I know he did, and I was afraid anything I might say would make him doubt himself tomorrow."

"I thought the same," Severus agreed, and suspected Sirius had stayed silent for the same reason. "How's your Patronus?"

"Adequate," Remus shrugged. "Not like Harry's, of course, but it will get the job done."

"And what about Black?" Severus questioned. "I've never seen him throw one before."

"Neither have I," Remus admitted. "But I trust him. If he says he can handle it, then I know he can."

Such faith. It was such a pathetically Gryffindor thing to say that Severus wanted to mock the man for it. But he thought of something a bit more cutting to say instead. "Well, judging by the way those women are eyeing him, I've no doubt Black will have all the happy memories he needs from tonight."

Remus whirled his head back toward his companion as if he'd been slapped, his amber gaze immediately seeking out the women in question. Indeed there were a group of young, rather well-endowed women watching the notorious outlaw, their eyes gleaming with a certain lustful hunger. But contrary to Severus' words, Black had not yet appeared to have noticed them. Remus, however, while giving Severus the predictable reaction he had been expecting, was not as ignorant as the Slytherin remembered.

"I'd say Sirius isn't the only one who's caught the eye of the local wildlife," he remarked somewhat cattily as he nodded his head toward a group of younger girls closer to Harry's age.

Severus eyes narrowed -- the group of girls ranged from perhaps fourteen years of age to at least twenty and all of them were eyeing the young man rather hungrily. And while the girls of Hogwarts were rather reserved in their interactions with the boys their own age, Severus was very much aware of the fact that these girls, even the younger ones, had no such restraint. This society tended to live fast and hard and if Harry offered any sort of encouragement they would jump at the chance to share his bed this night. He also had no doubt that many of their mothers had given the girls fertility potions and urged them to lure one of the visiting men into their beds. Having a child with the Boy Who Lived or one of his companions would be considered a great blessing among such a group.

Severus threw a dark frown at the werewolf, who just glared right back. So the two of them were not so different; didn't mean they had to bond over the subject. And he certainly was not going to discuss his jealousy with a Gryffindor. His emotions were going to stay firmly where they had always been -- buried.

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While Sirius regaled the crowd of warriors with stories, Remus found himself spending most of the evening enduring the good-natured teasing of the warriors around him. Unlike his companions, Remus was an unknown quantity in this crowd. They all knew Harry Potter, and everyone had heard of Sirius Black and Severus Snape. They acknowledged those three men as superiors, and treated them with the respect due their stations, but they had no idea what to think of Remus Lupin. In the end they seemed to decide that he was little different from the rest of them, though worthy of respect by the company he kept. It opened Remus to a great deal more teasing than the others had to endure.

The gist of their joking seemed to be his choice of weapon. More than one man had comment on the size of the mace leaning up against the table by his chair. One brave soul had finally decided to test its weight himself -- something Remus doubted they would have dared do with Severus or Sirius. The man, a blond, muscle-bound giant though perhaps no more than twenty-five years of age, lifted the heavy mace with both hands, grinning at his companions when he confirmed it weighed as much as they had guessed it did -- far too much for someone like Remus to wield successfully.

"We'll get you another weapon, lad," the warrior grinned at Remus, despite the fact that Remus was at least a decade older than him. "My sister has a blade that would be about the right size for you." His words were met with laughter from the others.

Remus just smiled at the man and reached across to take the mace from him. He lifted the heavy weapon out of the warrior's grip with only one hand, tossing it briefly in the air as if it weighted no more than a dagger. "No thanks," he replied as he laid the mace once again beside him. "The mace suits me just fine."

The man's eyes had widened in amazement, and indeed several other warriors had leaned forward for a better look at him as if not believing he had done such a thing. Far from being angry or embarrassed the young warrior just grinned and sat down across from him, propping his arm up on the table. "You're stronger than you look. We must arm wrestle!"

While Remus just stared at the man in disbelief a dozen other men gathered around them, all seeming to think this was a grand idea. Of course he suspected in a society like this, arm wrestling likely passed for a form of entertainment. "You'd lose," he warned the man.

But the warrior just grinned harder. "Prove it."

And so while Sirius entertained one half of the crowd with wild stories, Remus found himself arm wrestling warrior after warrior, all wanting to test their strength against him. Surprisingly, despite losing one after another with seemingly no effort on Remus' part, none of them were deterred. Indeed several men came back more than once to try again. Remus found the whole thing perplexing.

Eventually they gave up and brought him food and drink for his effort, one man after another clapping him on the back as if they were now old friends. Bemused, he turned his attention to his companions instead, seeing that Sirius, Harry and Severus were now listening to Alrik retell the story of Harry's fight against the Dementors the night before. The warriors who had not heard the story were hanging on Alrik's every word, more than one man turning to stare at the now blushing Boy Who Lived when Alrik described Harry's Patronus as the 'Royal White Stag'.

These men, Remus had noticed, were given to metaphorical embellishment, but he found that description ringing oddly in his ears. It was aptly described -- he had seen Prongs himself and knew how impressive he could be. But 'Royal White Stag' was a phrase Remus was certain he had read in a book somewhere. The memory however proved difficult to grasp.

Severus, he noticed, was listening to the story with a strange gleam in his eyes as well -- as if he too had recognized something in the description. But perhaps he was just disturbed by the numerous young ladies who were determined to bring more food or drink for Harry the moment he so much touched something on his plate.

It was not the first time Remus had smelled jealousy or lust coming from Severus when he was focused on Harry. It might have worried him if he had not seen the way Severus had hugged Harry that afternoon in front of the castle, as if he'd been given his very life back in that moment. Severus might be more prone to the darker emotions in life, but it was obvious Harry brought out the lighter ones in him as well.

Against his bidding he found his gaze drifting back to Sirius. Time and time again he found himself unable to look away from the Marauder, the wolf in him so possessive of the man despite the fact that he had not taken him as a mate. The wolf did not seem to care. Truthfully, the man in him did not seem to care either. Despite the fact that he had exchanged no promises with Sirius, and had not encouraged his flirtations, he knew himself well enough to know that there was no one in this world for him but Sirius. The blue-eyed man had stolen his heart years ago when he he'd first seen him on their sorting day in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Sirius had stolen his heart that day -- and five years later when he and the others revealed they had become Animagus so that they could keep the werewolf company, he had quite effectively stolen Remus' soul.

But the Sirius of his youth had been flighty and fickle when it came to love, and Remus could not bear to risk their friendship simply because the wolf wanted his mate. He had spent his entire life denying the wolf; he would continue to do so.

Oh, but Severus words earlier that night had stung, and Remus had returned the barb just as sharply. Trouble was, Severus could be fairly certain that he could chase off all of Harry's young suitors this night. For all Harry's maturity, he did not think long or hard on romance the way other young men might. Certainly Ron Weasley spared more than a passing thought to the girls he knew -- but Harry had seemed too haunted or perhaps too hunted to dwell overly long on such things.

But Remus had no such assurances. Indeed Sirius reveled in the attention he had attracted, playing up to the crowd that gathered around him. Even now he could hear him telling the women sitting beside him about one of his daring escapes from the Dementors out to hunt down the notorious outlaw. Harry's proclamation of Sirius' innocence had relegated Sirius Black to the status of Robin Hood. Even now Remus' overly sensitive hearing could hear several women bickering over who would bed Sirius this night. A young blond who reminded Remus uncomfortably of one of Sirius' old girlfriends appeared to be the forerunner in the fight. She was currently sitting beside the dark-haired man, gazing adoringly at his face. It was all Remus could do not to go over there and shove her away.

When he saw the girl slide her hand onto Sirius' thigh, he felt his proverbial hackles rise and found himself gripping his goblet hard enough to dent the metal.

The girl made no secret of her intentions, and though she whispered her words to Sirius, Remus could hear her clearly. "Do you want some company tonight?"

All Sirius had to do was smile and the bargain would be set. Remus could do nothing at all to stop it. And perhaps it was shameful of him to even begrudge Sirius this thing -- though Severus' words had been meant to sting, there had been some truth in them. Remus of all people knew what torment it would be for Sirius to face those Dementors tomorrow. How could he begrudge Sirius the memories he might need to get through the battle?

He found himself unable to look up, but equally unable to shut his ears as he waited for Sirius' answer.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he heard Sirius' gentle voice. "My heart belongs to an other."

Remus looked up in shock, his gaze taking in the sight before him. Sirius had not, it seemed, noticed his scrutiny. Nor had the women, though several of them sighed at the romantic nature of Sirius' declaration. The blond however was not deterred and Remus' eyes narrowed as he saw her slender hand sliding higher up Sirius' thigh as if seeking out proof he was not uninterested. "It is not your heart I'm after," the girl told him.

Sirius grabbed the girl's wandering hand, putting it aside before it could reach its intended destination. He flashed the girl and those around her a winning smile. "With my heart went my ability to separate such things. Thank you, but I must decline."

If anything, his words made the girls sigh again, more enamored than before. Indeed, Remus found his own heart pounding in his chest. Did Sirius know he was watching, or were his word genuine? And perhaps it was the height of arrogance to assume Sirius might be referring to him. Perhaps he merely did not care for any of those on offer and was looking for an easy way to let them down.

But a quick glance at the girls left him doubting that last idea -- the women were beautiful, and there were certainly plenty to choose from. For that matter if Sirius preferred other company this night there were men enough to chose from as well -- more than one was eyeing the man hungrily enough. Or perhaps that it was just that Sirius did not feel comfortable leaving Harry unguarded this night -- though surely he knew Severus would not let Harry out of his sight? Unless it was Severus he did not trust?

Remus' heart was still pounding, and now so was his head. He had never dated, never played the games other men played with casual lovers and flirtations. He did not know how to deal with the emotions he was feeling, and the one person he would normally go to talk to about such turmoil was the very person causing all of it.

And then there was the wolf inside him, growling in anger and telling him he was being foolish. Telling him simply that Sirius was his and he should take him and be done with it. The wolf had no conflict and sometimes Remus envied its simplicity.

"Remus?" he looked up from his musing to see that Sirius, Harry and Severus were all waiting for him, obviously ready to retire for the night.

Quickly he bid his own companions goodnight, grabbed up his mace and went to join them. An older woman was waiting to lead them to chambers for the night and as they left the Hall more than one disappointed gaze stared after them. Severus, Remus noticed, put a proprietary hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him from the room, pausing only briefly to glare back at some of the younger women who had been watching his bond-mate.

Remus found himself falling into step beside Sirius. "Arm wrestling?" Sirius murmured under his breath, and Remus threw him a glare, noting the smirk of amusement on the man's face.

"Wasn't my idea," he insisted. "They wouldn't leave me alone. Several of them came back more than once."

"Gave them an excuse to touch you, didn't it," Sirius told him, and Remus heard something odd in his voice which caused him to look more closely at his companion. Though Sirius' mouth was still smiling, there was a gleam in his eyes that wasn't precisely amusement.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

Sirius just shrugged carelessly, though the tension in his body spoke of something less casual. "Surely you noticed the attention you were attracting? I thought that blond was going to carry you off."

For one confusing moment Remus tried to picture the blond woman who had been touching Sirius' leg trying to carry him off. And then it hit him that Sirius was in fact referring to the young blond warrior who had been playing with his mace. And the odd look in Sirius' eyes suddenly made sense. Sirius Black was jealous! Amazement flooded through Remus' body. It was inconceivable.

But judging by the look in Sirius' gaze -- a wary and somewhat worried look that Remus had a hard time comprehending -- the man was expecting some sort of response from him. Or perhaps hoping for some sort of response that Remus was uncertain how to deliver.

"I. . ." he wanted to say something romantic and beautiful like the thing Sirius had said to that girl, something that might make Sirius' heart pound for an entirely different reason. But for once words utterly failed him and he was left with only the simple truth. "I hadn't noticed," he admitted, disappointed in himself that he could not find something more assuring to say.

And miraculous, the truth seemed to be exactly what Sirius wanted, for he flashed Remus a blinding smile. "Yeah," he grinned. "I kind of figured." And when he slipped his arm around Remus' waist and pulled him into his side, Remus did nothing to stop him.

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Author's Note: Would you look at that...Severus and Remus are both standing in the middle of the River Denial, and not only are they both aware of it but are rather gleefully getting wet.


	34. Chapter 34 To Sleep

Chapter 34 To Sleep

The woman led them upstairs to a long hallway only sparsely lit with torches. "We're crowded tonight, my lords," she informed them as she paused at a heavy wooden door and pushed it opened. They all took that to mean they'd be sharing a room that night -- not that Remus minded. None of them wanted Harry out of their sight.

Remus thanked the woman and then followed the others into the room. Severus immediately closed and locked the door, sealing it up tight with several warding spells. There was little chance of anyone getting past the Slytherin's wards.

One glance around the room confirmed that they had been given one of the old family quarters common several centuries back. With so many creatures threatening life and soul in this land, space behind the secured walls of the Keep was at a premium. It would not be uncommon for entire families to share a small living space like this -- though these quarters were generous enough.

Someone had taken care to lay a heavy rug on the stone slabs of the floor -- something Remus suspected had been done just for them. And though there were only two beds in the room, the bed-curtains and linens looked fresh and clean. A fire had been lit in the large fireplace off to one side and Sirius was currently inspected the flames, no doubt confirming that it was secure from floo. While Severus moved to check the beds themselves and the walls behind them, Remus investigated the small bathroom off to one side, making certain there were no hidden surprises.

The three of them, Sirius, Severus and Remus, worked surprisingly well together -- each of them just paranoid enough to trust the other to secure the room. Harry merely stood in the center of the room watching them in bemusement, before he finally just sighed and moved toward the fire. When Remus emerged from the bathroom he saw the young man sink down onto the carpet in front of the flames and stare into it lost in thought.

They took turns in the bathroom, preparing for the night, Sirius finally urging Harry to change into the pajamas he'd transfigured for him and take his turn washing up. Once he had disappeared into the bathroom the three men found themselves staring at each other uncertainly.

"He's been very quite this evening," Remus remarked when it became clear to him that the other two men were not going to speak what was on their minds. No doubt they were both worried about Harry's state of mind -- they were also likely brooding over the fact that there were only two beds.

"He's been through a lot," Sirius conceded. They'd heard the full story now of the fight the night before.

"Eight more deaths," Severus murmured.

Neither Remus nor Sirius commented on that, both knowing that Harry already blamed himself for too much as it was.

"I don't like this plan," Sirius sighed then. "Taking Harry out into . . that. . ." He waved his hand vaguely and they both understood he meant the coming battle.

"He's not going to be dissuaded," Remus replied, remembering the look in Harry's eyes that afternoon when he'd asked for their help. The nod from both Sirius and Severus confirmed that they too had recognized the same thing. Something had fundamental changed in Harry's perception of the world, though Remus was not yet certain what that might mean for all their futures.

They heard the bathroom door open and looked up to see Harry re-enter the room, dressed now in the pajamas Sirius had made for him. Barefoot and slender, he looked remarkably young, though his eyes, no longer hidden behind glasses thanks to Severus' potion, were not a child's eyes.

Sirius wasted no time in grinning brightly at him. "You okay there, Harry?" he asked.

The young man nodded, his face thoughtful. He took a cautious step forward as if deliberating something. The three of them waited in silence, seeing that he obviously had something on his mind.

"I wanted to thank you," he said then, sounding terribly young as if all his newfound confidence had left him.

"For what, Harry?" Sirius asked bemused, moving swiftly to Harry's side and taking hold of one of his hands. Harry smiled gratefully at him and Remus could see his hand tightening in Sirius' grip. He was reminded suddenly of how little affection this young man had received growing up -- such gestures probably meant more to him than they truly understood and Remus was grateful that Sirius was capable of such things. Both he and Severus were far too reserved, but Sirius more than made up for it.

"For coming after me," Harry explained. "For saving me."

Sirius grinned at that. "You didn't seem to need a whole lot of saving, Harry."

"Not today," Harry said simply. "Tomorrow."

The smile faded from Sirius' face and he slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders, the confusion all three of them felt clear in his eyes.

"I can't control a Patronus and levitate that stone at the same time," Harry explained. "And because of that those men out there were going to call a massacre a victory. I'm not sure I could go through that again."

Remus found himself swallowing painfully around the lump in his throat, understanding now that Harry was talking about not just the battle tomorrow, but of the night he'd taken the Eye of Odin from Voldemort's hands. He had saved Hogwarts that day -- had likely saved the Wizarding World that day. But that single act had killed not only Death Eaters but Aurors alike. The Wizarding World had counted it a great victory -- but all Harry had been able to think about were the men and women who had died.

Before the three of them had arrived today Harry had already made the decision to seal up the Well of Despair. He had done it knowing that it meant men were going to fall in battle to the Dementors -- they had no defense against them and Harry would be too occupied with the stone to save them.

Sirius hugged Harry tightly to him. "You're not alone, Harry," he assured him. "Put those thoughts behind you. We're going to win tomorrow. It's going to be alright." Those weren't really promises anyone could make in good faith -- but Remus, and apparently Severus too for he said nothing against them, understood that Harry needed to hear them nonetheless.

Harry looked into his Godfather's eyes, searching his face for something more. "Will you be alright against the Dementors, Sirius?" he asked, voicing the question Remus had been pondering himself all night. No one liked Dementors, but for a former prisoner of Azkaban they held an added terror.

Sirius just smiled gently at the young man. "You don't honestly think I'd let you down, do you?" he teased, and Remus' heart lurched as he realized that Sirius' answer was really more of an evasion. Severus, who'd sat down on the bed on the far side of the room, shifted somewhat nervously as if he too realized that Sirius' answer wasn't what it should have been.

Remus was uncertain if Harry realized it as well, for he smiled at the response. But his next words suggest he understood more than he let on. "Do you know what memory I use for my Patronus?" he asked with an almost shy grin.

Sirius shook his head, his handsome face clearly showing his curiosity. Remus had wondered himself about that -- he'd only ever told Harry to make certain it was a strong emotion, a powerful one. He had never asked Harry to explain it in detail.

"That first night I met you," Harry said simply. "When you told me you were my godfather and asked me to come live with you."

Across the room Remus saw Severus turned his face away at that, his jaw tightening with some emotion, and Remus found himself looking down at his feet unable to stare at the emotion in both Harry's and Sirius' faces. He felt so conflicted -- happy that Harry had such a memory, that he could share such a thing with Sirius who he knew would cling to that admission with joy, and guilty that this boy had possessed so little love in his life that he could produce a Patronus unlike any he'd ever seen before simply because a man he'd known less than an hour had offered him a place to stay.

But it seemed to be exactly what Sirius needed to hear for Remus could hear the pleasure in his voice when he said, "That is what produces Prongs –- the Royal White Stag?" Again that turn of phrase and Remus frowned thinking that perhaps it had resonated with Sirius as well. He glanced up to see the two of them smiling at each other, laughter in their eyes.

"You going to tell me what your Patronus is?" Harry asked him.

But Sirius just smirked at him. "Think about it long enough, and I think you'll figure it out." And that -- finally -- was confirmation that Sirius could throw the spell. He might not have said it out right, but if he was capable of teasing Harry about what form it might take, it meant he himself knew he possessed a Patronus and that it took corporal form. Remus felt something easing inside himself at the admission.

If Harry did figure it out, he gave no indication, he just grinned and hugged Sirius impulsively. "Good night, Sirius," he smiled, then glanced toward Remus. "Good night, Remus." Then he moved swiftly across the room and climbed into the bed Severus was sitting upon, seemingly deciding right then and there for the four of them what their sleeping arrangements would consist of for the night. That he had no trouble at all climbing into the bed Severus had apparently claimed for his own was not really surprising since he shared a bed with the man back in Hogwarts.

Sirius, surprisingly just sighed and shrugged at Severus before turning toward the other bed. Remus took that his own cue to climb in to sleep.

They left the fire and the candles lit -- none of them wanting the total darkness in a strange environment. And the room was cold enough as it was. Remus drew the curtains around the bed once Sirius had joined him and threw both a warming charm and a sound muffling charm on them while Sirius began yanking off his boots. He didn't want to use a full silencing charm since it would block out sounds from the room as well and he wanted to be able to hear if someone entered.

He began removing his own boots, doing his best to ignore the man beside him. Neither they nor Severus had changed into sleeping clothes like Harry had, knowing that it was possible they could be awakened at a moment's notice to fight or defend themselves from an attack. But they had stripped out of their outer leathers.

Boots off, Remus stripped down to the linen undershirt he wore, too self-conscious of the scars on his body to remove anything more. He and Sirius had shared a bed before on missions, but he could not help but feel that things were subtly changing between them. And despite his best efforts not to look he found his eyes drawn to the bare expanse of skin as Sirius stripped off his own shirt unselfconsciously, tossing it to the foot of the bed. Sirius was all lean muscle and sinew and Remus had dreamed many times of mapping each plane with his hands. He eyed briefly the heir tattoo on Sirius' shoulder blade, the mark of the firstborn of a pureblood house. Toujours Pur, it said beneath the family crest, mocking the werewolf.

Despite his best effort, Sirius caught him staring and frowned in concern. "Do you want me to transform?" he asked softly, keeping his voice low so that the others wouldn't hear.

It took Remus a moment to understand what he was offering -- he had transformed into Padfoot in the past so that Remus might feel more comfortable sharing a bed with him. But for some reason tonight he did not want that at all. He shook his head swiftly before nervously yanking down the bed sheets and climbing between them. Sirius just grinned and slipped in beside him.

"You really didn't know that blond was hitting on you?" he asked then.

Remus rolled on to his back and stared up at him; Sirius was propped up on one elbow gazing curiously at him. "It's not a common occurrence," Remus informed him.

"I hit on you all the time, Moony," Sirius reminded him, and Remus had to concede that was true. Even back in school Sirius had flirted with him -- though it had largely been a joke to make them all laugh.

"You don't mean it," Remus pointed out.

For a long moment Sirius said nothing, and then to Remus' shock he felt Sirius' hand on his face, his fingers gently turning him toward him. The look in his eyes was for once neither teasing nor frivolous, his eyes gleaming with something that quite took Remus' breath away. When Sirius Black focused all his attention on you it was rather like standing in the center of the sun. "Yes, Moony, I do mean it. And you have to understand that I'm not going to give up."

"Sirius," Remus whispered desperately because he so dearly wished to believe his words, and he knew just as certainly that his belief didn't really matter. If Sirius truly wished to push the issue, there was nothing in the world Remus could deny him even if it were to tear him apart afterwards.

And then Sirius' mouth was on his own, tasting him, drinking in the soft moan that escaped his lips. And it was so good, so sweet, all the joy and pleasure he'd spent his entire life denying himself, coalesced down to a single perfect sensation. He knew then that it didn't matter what he believed, what he hoped, what he might dream or fear, he utterly and completely belonged to Sirius Black and always had.

Sirius ended the kiss before it could go much farther, and Remus found himself staring helplessly up at the man in the dim light of their curtained bed. His heart was pounding and he felt utterly out of control. Sirius it seemed was searching for something in his face, his intent gaze relentless as he probed his eyes. What ever he saw made him smile gently, though for the life of him Remus could not interpret the look. "You'll see, Moony," he whispered softly as he settled down beside him. "You'll see."

Remus was shaking now, trembling with raw emotion he didn't know how to handle. It wasn't the wolf this time, but the man who was completely out of his depth. It shamed him, feeling like this, so desperate and frightened and needy, like a teenage girl receiving her first kiss. But it was his first kiss -- still it seemed like a grown man should be able to handle such things with more finesse, more control.

And then Sirius pulled him into his arms, spooning up against him so that he felt the long, reassuring line of his body pressed firmly against his own -- and gods was it supposed to feel that good, that arousing? He was going to fly apart if his heart did not stop pounding.

Sirius splayed a hand against his chest, holding him still, holding him safe, and the warm tickle of his breath touched Remus' ear as he whispered softly to him, making him shiver. "It's alright, Moony," he soothed. "I promise. Everything is all right. Just sleep, stop thinking and sleep."

Remus didn't truly understand what it was he was saying, but it didn't ultimately matter. Stop thinking -- he could do that if Sirius wanted him to. For once, he could let go and just trust that Sirius would catch him. He was in Sirius Black's arms, lying against his bare chest, and had there ever been a time in his life when he had not dreamed of such a thing? He did as Sirius asked and stopped thinking, settling down to listen to the man's heart beating against his own, strong and reassuring. And as sleep overcame him he realized that for once even the wolf was utterly content.

Severus climbed into bed beside Harry, pausing briefly to strip off his boots and his outerwear. Not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable he left on his pants and the thick undershirt before sliding under the covers. As he settled his sword against the headboard in easy reach of his hand, and his wand beneath his pillow he was startled to notice that the boy was watching him closely. This bed was a lot smaller than the one they shared at Hogwarts, and there wasn't any of the comfortable distance between them. Already he could feel Harry's body heat seeping into him.

"Are you angry?" Harry asked softly then, surprising him.

"Of course I'm angry," Severus replied immediately, though he paused first to cast a sound muffling charm on the curtains. "I'm so furious I could kill him!"

His words seemed to startle the young man and he shifted uncomfortably. "I meant with me, not Alrik," Harry corrected.

"You?" Severus stared down at him in surprise, noticing that there was genuine concern in those bright green eyes. "You think I would be angry with you for getting kidnapped? How could that possibly be your fault?"

But again he had misread the question for Harry shook his head. "I meant because I said I'd help them tomorrow. With the stone and the Dementors."

Severus sighed. He was angry, though not specifically at Harry. He was also terrified. And proud. "You're a Gryffindor, Harry. I can hardly fault you for acting true to your nature."

At the confused look the young man gave him, he just shook his head. "No, Harry, I'm not mad at you. I've quite resigned myself to the fact that I'm married to a Gryffindor."

Harry smiled wryly at that. "Sorry," he said, soundly only vaguely apologetic. "I'm glad you're here," he added.

Severus smiled faintly at that. "Where else would I be? You know the Winter Lands is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor. You and your two Dog-fathers are surrounded by fellow Gryffindors -- you need at least one Slytherin to keep you from doing anything crazy."

For once Harry didn't protest the intended insult to Black or Lupin, or the disparagement against all Gryffindors. Rather he just smiled and settled down into his pillow, looking as if Severus' insult had set all things right with his world. "I'm glad you're here," he said again, and perhaps he truly was. He certainly didn't protest or scoot away when Severus settled down beside him, body nearly touching his beneath the heavy blankets. Rather he just settled into the warmth and closed his eyes, his breath evening out into sleep.

Severus lay awake a long while, listening to Harry breathe beside him, grateful that he was all right, worried about what tomorrow might bring. He didn't think too long or too hard on the thoughts of jealousy that had plagued him earlier or on the fact that the heat from the young man's body was sorely tempting him to rollover and touch. Instead he focused on the idea that no matter what, come what may tomorrow, he would make certain that Harry survived the conflict. As soon as humanly possible Harry would be back safe behind the walls of Hogwarts, and he would not let him out of his sight again.

He slept eventually, only to be awakened a few hours later by the sounds of distress coming from Harry. As he shook off the fog of sleep, he realized instantly that Harry had not taken any potion against his nightmares, and for the first time in a few months had new images to lend them power. Understand how those images might affect the boy, Severus didn't even hesitate to rollover and pull Harry into his arms. Sometime during the night the boy had rolled over on his side, his back to Severus; Severus spooned up behind him, shaking him lightly to wake him from the dreams.

"It's alright, Harry," he whispered directly into the boy's ear. He slid his palm against Harry's chest, feeling his pounding heart beating against his breastbone. "You're safe, it's all right." The boy was shaking, trembling in reaction. Severus shook him again, trying to jostle him awake.

Suddenly a hand closed over his wrist and Harry's entire body went utterly stiff in his arms, letting Severus know that he was indeed awake. Severus held his breath, not certain now what to do -- would the boy wrench himself away, ripping his hands from his body, yell at him for daring to touch him?

"Severus?" he heard a soft whisper, and he frowned hearing so much fear and trepidation in that voice. Harry's hand tightened around his wrist.

"It's just a nightmare, Harry," Severus said softly, his own heart pounding as he waited for the inevitable reaction.

And then to his amazement, Harry sighed, his entire body going limp as if in relief, his grip relaxing around Severus wrist. Far from releasing him though, Harry merely scooted back, settling more completely into Severus' embrace, and then seem to fall back to sleep. The transition was so quick that Severus was no longer even certain if the boy had woken completely or not.

Regardless, Severus now had a bit of a dilemma. The boy was clutching his hand now, practically curled up around it, making it quite impossible for Severus to move away. He had in his haste to wake the boy pressed himself against the length of his backside and the firm heat was doing things to his body that became harder and harder to ignore. He had never been a particularly promiscuous man, but he'd been sharing a bed with a tempting young man for months now without once touching him or anyone else and the effort to keep his distance, to keep his hands to himself, was quickly becoming bothersome.

Resigning himself to a rather uncomfortable night, Severus just sighed and consoled himself with the fact that Sirius Black was probably suffering equally.


	35. Chapter 35 Into the Breach

Chapter 35 Into the Breach

Severus made a point of being up and dressed before the others rose, not wanting to answer any awkward questions such as why he was wrapped bodily around Harry. Once dressed he settled a kettle of water to boil over the fire, the sound waking the others as they all got up to prepare for the day. It was still early, no light shining through the thin slit of a window as the winter sky would not lighten for several hours yet. But Severus had no doubt that the other occupants of the castle were already up and about, preparing for battle.

He fixed tea for all of them as the others dressed, and when Harry came to claim his cup, he noticed the distant look in the boy's eyes.

"You alright, Harry?" he asked, wondering what the boy was thinking. His question caught both Lupin's and Black's attention though they didn't say anything.

Harry frowned but nodded. "I'm fine," he assured them all. "I just had a strange dream."

Remembering the nightmare, Severus couldn't help the fear that settled in his heart. Harry was known for his 'dreams' about Voldemort. If the dark lord had caught wind of what was going on here today, then there was no way Severus was going to allow Harry to go out into that battle. It would be far too dangerous.

"About the battle today?" he demanded of the young man. "About Voldemort?"

"No," Harry shook his head quickly, sounding certain about that. "It wasn't a vision, just a dream. And it had nothing to do with today -- there were no Dementors or Grendlings. It was just strange. You know how images sometimes get into your head and you can't shake them?" He shrugged as if dismissing it, but Severus wasn't so keen to let the subject drop.

"What was it about?"

Harry's eyes took on that distant look again as he once more got pulled into his images. "I was in a necropolis," he explained.

Alarmed, Severus remembered clearly the story of Voldemort's resurrection during the final trial of the Tri Wizard Tournament. "A graveyard?"

But again Harry shook his head. "No, a necropolis -- a city filled with the dead, and there was this giant glowing spider web on the ground. But that wasn't really the strange part -- it was the birds."

"Birds?" Severus glanced over at Lupin who looked equally perplexed by Harry's bizarre recollection. It wasn't like the past visions he had recounted to them. Those at least had recognizable forms and features to them, and made some sort of coherent sense. This sounded more like random images.

Harry nodded. "Two of them," he explained. "Ravens, I think. One perched on either of my shoulders. They were whispering to me, though I can't remember what they said."

Severus felt the blood draining from his face at the boy's words, and he didn't trust himself to speak. He could tell by the look Lupin threw him that he too understood the strange imagery.

"Are you certain they were ravens, Harry?" Lupin asked, and if Harry noticed the strain in the werewolf's voice, he didn't comment.

"Pretty certain," Harry nodded. "Could have been crows I suppose -- rather hard to tell the difference." He laughed suddenly and looked over at Sirius who had been watching the proceedings silently. Black obviously did not catch the raven reference, but understood that something was going on between Remus and Severus. "Imagine me dreaming about Ravenclaw's symbols," Harry grinned at his godfather. "I mean lions and snakes I could understand."

"Next you'll be dreaming about badgers," Sirius agreed with a smile. "And then I'm afraid we'll have to revoke your Gryffindor badge for that. " The two of them laughed, then Sirius glanced rather pointedly at all of them. "We should go. They'll be waiting for us downstairs."

Nodding, they gathered their gear and headed down, Sirius and Harry going ahead which gave Remus and Severus a moment to talk. "Two ravens," Remus hissed to Severus, looking quite as upset as Severus himself felt. "Those are Odin's familiars, two ravens, Thought and Memory. Albus said the Eye of Odin had been destroyed."

"It was," Severus insisted, knowing full well what the two ravens represented. The god Odin was said to have two ravens named Thought and Memory who sat on either of his shoulders and whispered the secrets of the world into his ears. "The battle field was searched; there was no sign of it. And Harry was in the hospital for three weeks afterwards -- someone would have noticed if he still had it."

"Still he touched it," Remus told him. "And we have no idea what powers it had, or what it might have done to him."

"The boy has spent the last two days surrounded by Viking images," Severus shook his head. "It's far more likely his subconscious is just dredging up images from old stories he's heard."

"This is Harry we're talking about," Remus reminded him. "The likely answer is never the right one."

Harry sat on one the long benches in the Hall next to Sirius while around him chaos reigned. Warriors from all over the Winter Lands were gearing up for battle, arming themselves with swords and axes, strapping on armor and shields. All of them were also carrying brooms -- strange brooms unlike the ones he was familiar with. These were large, heavy poles with long bundles of reeds and straw at the end. He imagined they would be somewhat slow and unmaneuverable.

Severus had disappeared a few moments ago, heading off to talk to Alrik after giving Sirius and Remus orders to stay next to Harry. Both men had just glared at the Potions Master for ordering them to do what they already intended.

Remus, who stood next to the bench, noticed Harry eyeing the brooms curiously. "They're troop brooms, not Quidditch brooms," the werewolf explained. "They're not meant for speed. They're meant for transportation, nothing more." He pointed across the hall to a group of young men all wearing bows slung across their backs. Unlike the other men in the group these were smaller in size, less muscled -- in fact Harry saw several women in their ranks. Each of them was also carrying a broom with a far more sleek design like the Quidditch brooms he was used to.

"Those are the ones who will be used for aerial attacks. Their brooms are a lot more maneuverable," Remus continued.

"Why didn't Alrik use brooms when he brought me here?" Harry asked, wondering what was the point in risking lives on the ground when everyone obviously had brooms.

"You can't fly across the North Sea," Remus informed him. "The winds are too strong. And Alrik informed me that this is the first time in decades that anyone felt comfortable using a broom outside the shadow of their Keeps. The Dementors can fly. They're counting on us to keep the Dementors away from them."

Harry shuddered at the memory his words engendered -- if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's magic he would have died in third year when he fell from his broom during the Dementor attack at the Quidditch match. He supposed under those circumstances he could understand why they might fear using brooms.

The sound of barking dogs caught all their attention and they turned toward the open doors of the great hall. Several armed warriors entered surrounded by large dogs -- they could hear more outside in the courtyard, barking in excitement. The dogs, enormous beasts bred to fight the Grendlings, were heavily muscled and covered with thick dark coats of fur that reminded Harry a bit of Padfoot.

"The dogs of war," Sirius exclaimed, sounding impressed. "I'd heard about them, but this is the first time I've seen them."

"Dogs of war?" Harry really wished he knew more about his world.

"They're bred to fight," Sirius explained. "In fact Padfoot is a similar breed. Some say they are the source of the legend of the Grim. Supposedly a pack of them can take down certain dragons." He pointed toward one of the warriors who was fitting thick harnesses around the dogs' heavy bodies. "They're trained to the harness so that they can be air-lifted by broom and dropped into the middle of a battle."

One or two dogs wandered too close to their table, teeth bared at anyone they neared. But Remus merely glared at them and they backed away as if sensing the wolf within the man. Sirius, Harry could see, was trying hard not to laugh.

Harry found his mind wandering, first to the strange dream he'd had, then to the things that had happened yesterday, then to fears about what was to come. His thoughts jumped chaotically about in his head, until surprisingly he found himself focusing on something that made him flush with confusing warmth. He'd awakened last night several times -- once to find himself wrapped tightly in Severus' arms. Beyond a few hugs, he'd never been that physically close to another human being in his life -- certainly not in contact that lasted more than a second or two. But Severus had been holding him quite tightly, and Harry had felt the heat of the man's body plastered along his entire backside. And the man's face had been buried against his neck, his warm breath sending shivers over his skin. And when the man had shifted in his sleep Harry had felt his lips touching the skin just below his ear. He'd been aware too of an unmistakable hardness pressing against him, the sensation making him at once nervous and oddly excited all at the same time.

In his sleep, Severus' hand had slipped down over his stomach and then lightly caressed Harry's hip, the touch hot and firm, and Harry had waited in breathless silence for the panic to set in. But it hadn't been anything like the time Julius had tried to touch him -- for one thing Severus' hand had settled on his hip rather than straying to other places. And for another. . . . Harry found himself flushing with the memory. It had felt. . . .good. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud of course! But beyond feeling safe in Severus' arms, Harry had also felt the stirrings of something inside him that reminded him of his brief crush on Cho Chang, and he wasn't certain what to do with such emotions.

Severus returned a moment later, carrying with him a small bundle, which he set down on the table. "Gifts from Winter Land Lords," he informed them as he opened the leather bundle and pulled out a shining metal bracer. He took hold of Harry's right arm and began strapping the bracer around his forearm. Sirius took up the other bracer and started strapping it to Harry's left forearm.

Startled, one arm held by either man, Harry could only watch as they bound the armor to him. "Some of the best armor in the world comes from the Winter Lands," Severus informed him. "This metal is feather light, and will turn most blades or arrows. It will also deflect many minor hexes." He shot a glance at Sirius, and then motioned Harry to stand up.

Harry had swapped the jacket he'd been wearing with the heavy cloak Severus had brought for him, but now Severus urged him to remove the cloak entirely. Beneath he had only a long-sleeved cotton shirt and he shivered in the chill morning air. While Severus helped him pull on a padded undertunic, Sirius dropped to one knee in front of Harry and began strapping metal shin guards to his legs, tightening the straps around his boots.

Motioning Harry to lift his arms, Severus dropped a coat of scale mail over his head, letting it fall over his shoulders with a musical sound as the tiny links of metal whispered against each other. Though braced for the heavy weight, Harry was surprised when he felt almost nothing, the armor indeed feather-light. This too was strapped to his body and belted around his waist with a leather belt designed to carry a sword sheath though there were none in evidence.

Bemused, Harry couldn't help but think that these two men, Severus and Sirius, worked rather well together -- cladding him in a full suit of armor in record time. Lastly Severus placed his cloak around his shoulders once more, fastening it in place before stepping back to look critically at him. Harry found himself flushing under the stares of all three men.

"You look like a young princeling," Sirius grinned at him, clapping him tightly on the shoulder. Harry felt his face heating up even more, and against his bidding he sought out Severus' gaze for confirmation of such a bold statement.

One dark eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Indeed, most attractive," Severus dead-panned, voice dripping with sarcasm. But nonetheless Harry saw approval in his eyes, and he couldn't help but remember the heat that had pressed against him last night.

"The point of the armor is to keep your skin intact, not indulge your vanity" Severus informed him. "When we get out there, you are to stay beside the three of us at all times. We will have to land in order for you to move the stone -- you cannot lift something that heavy without being firmly planted on the ground. When we land we'll be vulnerable to the Grendlings. Our job is to deal with the Dementors first and the Grendlings second. There will be a group of warriors surrounding us who will keep the Grendlings off of us. Your job Harry is to move that stone as quickly as possible back over the Well. If we can, we'll force the Dementors back down the Well, but the most important thing is to get that Well closed. Let us handle everything else. Understand?"

Harry nodded, hearing what Severus was not saying -- that under no circumstances was he to stray from their side and risk his life.

They spoke briefly then about various battle tactics and ways to use their Patronuses together to herd the Dementors. But all too soon a horn was sounded and the gathering warriors began moving out of the hall. Alrik approached the four of them, carrying with him brooms for each of them, which he distributed quickly. He nodded approvingly at the armor Harry was wearing and then explained where they would be in the troop formation.

It was a cold, windy morning, the sky just beginning to brighten as they moved outside, women and children crowding into the courtyard beside the warriors to wish them luck. Before too long Harry found himself mounted on the cumbersome broom, rising into the air alongside the others. Sirius moved to his left side, Severus to his right. Remus took up position before them. Alrik, Asgeir and a large troop of warriors spread out behind them. In the air they were all safe from Grendling attack -- the Dementors the only threat. When they landed beside the Well, those warriors would move to surround the four of them, taking on the Grendlings while they directed their Patronuses. Harry knew that despite everything men would die -- he could only pray he'd be able to do the task assigned to him.

The mounted troop moved out, fly across the Winter Lands and moving deeper over the snow-filled woods where Alrik claimed the Grendlings lived. There were mountains looming over them, caped with blinding white snow, though a mist was begin to gather at the peaks, threatening to blow down into the valley. But at the moment the air was crisp and clear, the weak winter sun shining brightly overhead.

They had about an hour's flight ahead of them, and Harry cast several warming charms on himself to keep his hands from freezing as they gripped his broom handle. This broom was hardly as comfortable as a Quidditch broom which had top-notch cushioning charms on them, but Harry supposed a sore back end was the least of his problems at the moment.

For the most part they flew unchallenged, though far below in the trees of the forest they could see dark shapes loping after their moving shadows. The Grendlings were aware of their flight and were tracking them through the woods, no doubt noticing that the men were heading in the direction of their mating grounds.

All too soon the cold icy touch of despair washed over them, chilling them all despite the warming charms as dark shadows began following them through the air. The Dementors were moving to surround them, many looming above for an aerial attack. Remus and Sirius both fanned out to the sides, moving toward the edge of the formation while Severus and Harry took up positions near the front. They would not cast the Patronus charm until they absolutely had to -- the hope was they could gather as many of the Dementors as possible in one place and then force them back down into the Well. They could not risk driving them off too quickly.

Still it was a horrifying experience to fly with them so near, knowing that at any moment one of them might swoop in and overwhelm the troop with their dark sensations. As it was they kept their distance, as if uncertain what to make of so large a gathering of men. Dementors had only an average intelligence and were unlikely to reason out too soon what they were planning.

As they approached the foothills of the mountains, the ground giving way to rocky outcrops and sparse trees, a shout went up from the troop leaders, indicating that the Well had been sighted. A great waterfall fell from high in the mountains down into a large lake that was surrounded by tall pines. Enormous rocks had slid down from the mountains and dotted the shore of the lake, grown over with moss and lichens. And amid the crevasse and caves formed by the rocks came the dark furry shapes of Grendlings, hundreds of them swarming out to meet their pack members returning from the woods and to face the humans approaching from the air.

And deep in the center of this great valley, beyond the shore of the lake, was an enormous patch of ground that looked utterly dead and black, all the living plants that thrived at the lakeside dead and gone in this area. At the heart of it was an enormous hole perhaps fifteen feet in diameter that lead down into pitch-blackness. Even the Grendlings steered clear of the black and dead ground and the horrible hole that lead down into the center of the earth.

The men overhead circled the great hole, keeping out of its circumference naturally for there was a coldness emanating from it that had nothing to do with Winter. Harry could feel it deep down in his soul where the screams of the dead and dying awaited him.

"The Dementors are coming!" someone shouted -- Harry's cue to veer away from Severus who still flew at his side. Remus and Sirius who held flanking positions now shot away from the group in either directions while both Harry and Severus veered upward into the path of the Dementors who were approaching from above.

Harry waited until he could see the black shapes of the Dementors bearing down on him, their horrible darkness threatening to swallow him, before raising his wand in his right hand and shouting, "Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs sprang forth from the tip of his wand, blinding and brilliant, shooting straight ahead along Harry's flight path and cutting directly through the wall of darkness bearing down on him. Harry shot up, through the cloud of Dementors, moving out on top of them as they veered to the sides and downward to get away from the white light of the Patronus Stag.

Not far away Severus' Patronus, a brilliant, fiery phoenix, was doing the same -- driving the Dementors to either side and downward. And on the edge of the company of men two more Patronus shapes appeared -- a great dog like a Silvery Grim that sprang from Remus Lupin's wand, and to Harry's delight an enormous Silvery Werewolf that came from the wand of Sirius Black. Those two Patronus met the Dementors that Severus and Harry had driven downward and cut them off driving them toward the center of the circling mass of men. The men fanned out -- moving away from the swirling darkness as the four Patronus raced around in a great circle, gathering up the shadowy Dementors and driving them downward toward the opening of the Well.

As Harry directed Prongs in his dance, herding the Dementors down toward the Well, he found himself scanning the ground for the capstone. On his fifth pass he finally saw it -- an enormous round stone twenty feet in diameter, carved with great swirling knots and runes. Snarling Grendlings, who were gazing hungrily overhead at the circling humans, red eyes flashing in the pale morning light, surrounded the stone.

Harry found himself seeking out Severus as he hovered high over the capstone -- he hadn't expected to have to fight his way through the Grendlings to get to the stone. But the Grendlings were now climbing on top of the capstone as if knowing it was somehow luring the humans closer.

Severus, seeing Harry's dilemma, raced to his side on the heavy broom, all the while keeping his Phoenix Patronus circling overhead to drive the Dementors downward.

"Alrik!" Severus shouted. "Take your men and attack now!"


	36. Chapter 36 Carrying the Stone

Chapter 36 Carrying the Stone

It was all the cue the Winter Land warriors needed. Freed of the worry of the Dementors, the archers were already shooting arrow after arrow down into the Grendling pack. The dog masters now drove their brooms toward the ground, and released the harnesses, letting the dogs drop the short distance to the ground. Barking gleefully the dogs leaped into battle. A moment later, Alrik's warriors, swords and axes raised to strike, joined them, meeting the Grendlings head on with a great battle cry.

Fifty men landed on the Capstone, fanning out and driving the Grendlings away from it.

"Get ready!" Severus shouted to Harry. Harry hesitated only a moment before driving his broom downward, seeing the opening that cleared near the stone. A dozen more men followed him from the sky, shields and swords raised to keep any Grendling from attacking him as Harry at last set foot on the frozen ground. He took only a moment to release Prongs from his command, letting the Patronus loose with the last order to circle the battle before turning his attention to the great Capstone.

Feet firmly planted Harry aimed his wand at the enormous stone, only vaguely aware of the men fighting all around him. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, and the great stone seem to come to life -- the carved knots and runes on the stone suddenly burning with an inner fire. The stone rose obediently into the air, but this time Harry felt its enormous weight and he staggered under the sensation. Unlike the other stone he had lifted, this one seemed different -- connected somehow to the Earth -- and the Earth did not want to release her hold.

But Harry focused his mind, his heart pounding, and channeled everything he had into the weight of that stone, commanding it to move, begging the Earth to let it go. And impossibly the stone obeyed, floating silently through the air toward the great Well of Despair that now had a cloud of Dementors being forced down into it.

With every step Harry took across the now blood-stained ground, his feet sank into the frozen earth as if he himself was suddenly heavy beyond imagining. His whole body strained beneath the weight of the stone, but his hand never wavered, his magic never hesitating even when he was splattered with blood from the warriors and Grendlings fighting around him.

Twice dark shapes leaped at him, only to be driven back by large metal shields that were raised to protect him just in time. His legs shook, his feet leaving deep imprints as he took each painful step toward the Well. Beyond he could see the silvery Wolf and Dog racing in a fiery circle around the lip of the Well, the flames of the Phoenix driving the last of the Dementors back down into the Earth. It seemed as if the air itself was filled with the screams of the damned and every step closer brought the cold icy touch of despair to Harry's soul.

"The Wyrms!" someone shouted. "The Wyrms are coming!" And distantly Harry could hear some far off sound of hissing that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Keep going, Harry!" another voice shouted to him, Sirius he thought. "You're almost there!"

And Harry pushed onward, forcing the stone ahead of him, forcing his legs to keep moving despite the great weight that seemed to be crushing him now, pulling him down. Only vaguely was he aware that something had changed in the battle, something different in the sound as men were shouting and screaming as some new horror bore down upon them. Harry could not spare even a glance away from the stone to look, the last of the Dementors now disappearing beneath the earth.

Five more steps, he staggered, driving the stone forward until at last it hovered over the Well, its fiery sigils pulsing now with each beat of his heart. One flick of his wand and the stone dropped, slamming down over the Well and shaking the Earth all around. But connected now to the stone and the Earth, Harry could feel the great pressure of darkness beneath the stone pushing upwards at it, and the roar of hissing voices was growing louder by the second. He knew he had to seal down the stone before the darkness broke free once more and he could feel the Earth herself waiting for something, waiting for some word or command from him.

On his knees now, his legs no longer able to hold him, Harry raised his wand once more, his mind focused on one of the ancient sealing charms he remembered from one of the many long study sessions with Hermione.

"Terra Fas Sigillum Protego!" he shouted and a brilliant light shot from his wand and struck the burning sigils blinding him with their brilliance. And it seem to him as if the Earth herself reached out and grasped the Capstone wrapping around it almost lovingly and pulling it hard into the dirt. A single drumbeat sounded, shaking the land, and then growing still and silent. Deafened by the sound, Harry collapsed against the great stone, no longer able to feel any sense of darkness pressing back up through the bowels of the Earth. The stone, the Well, the screaming Dementors, were utter silent at last.

Only then, after a dozen gasping breaths of air, did Harry become aware of the sounds of battle still going on around him. The hissing screams had not been silenced with the Dementors he realized and he raised his head to look around, staggering to his feet. Severus, Sirius and Remus were surrounding him, weapons wielded in their left hands, wands in their right as they fought off a few straggling Grendlings who were still trying to get past the rest of the warrior.

But there were few Grendlings left in the battle -- rather the men, who could not leave the ground until Harry was back on his broom, were fighting off dozens of enormous black serpents that had come down from the mountains during the battle. Eyes widening in horror, Harry thought at first they were basilisks, but their gaze did not seem to paralyze as the men tried to drive them back with their sharp blades. The snakes were enormous towering over all of them like wingless dragons, and they struck with lightning speed, snapping at anything that moved, be it man or Grendling.

They were circling the army of men much like the Patronus had circled the Dementors, driving them inward tighter and tighter together so that they might feed at will. Archers, still circling overhead, were having little luck taking them down for the arrows were little more than an annoyance to the great creatures. Only blasts of fire and lightning from the wands of Severus, Remus and Sirius appeared to be doing any damage at all -- driving the snakes briefly back before they shook off the pain and came forward again, gripped it seemed by some madness that would not be sated.

"Kill! Destroy! Crush the Shadow Bringers!" they were hissing, each curse driving the others forward. Their lashing tails shook the ground, knocking down anything they touched, and even the Grendlings had abandoned the battle in terror.

Scrambling to his feet, no longer even know where his broom might be, Harry aimed his wand at his throat. "Sonorus!" he cried out and then turned his attention to the great Black Wyrms.

"Stop!" he shouted, his words coming out in a thunderous hiss of Parseltongue, amplified horribly by his spell. He climbed up onto the Capstone. "Stop! Do not attack!"

His words had a galvanizing effect on both men and Wyrms. The men could not understand him, but shuddered under the sound of Parseltongue, and the Serpents drew back in shock, their great black bodies slithering away and arching upward, heads turning to eye the young man who stood alone on top of the great Capstone. Dozens of enormous forked tongues flicked out, tasting the air as cold black eyes turned to gaze at Harry. All around him, men froze, holding their attacks, though he could hear their desperate gasping breaths of exhaustion.

"What trick is this, Shadow Bringer!" one of the great Wyrms hissed at Harry, tail lashing violently and sending enormous boulders rolling away from him.

"It is no trick!" Harry hissed back, praying he would not collapse before he was through. "Why do you attack us? We have not entered your mountain territory."

"You are the ones who bring the Shadows to devour our souls!" the great serpent hissed at him and the others hissed in defiance. "We remember the Shadow Bringers raising the stones which destroyed our nests. We will not let you bring more Shadows to our world!"

Harry shuddered in horror -- the Dementors devoured the souls of humans but he had not known they could devour the souls of other creatures. Indeed he had no idea that a serpent even knew what a soul might be, let alone fear to lose it. Certainly the Grendlings had not been affect by the Dementors.

"It was not us who brought the Shadows!" Harry told them, the word 'Dementor' translating in Parseltongue directly into 'Shadow'. "We are from a different nest. And we did not come to raise more stones but to close the one that was opened. We have driven the Shadows back into the Earth. We have placed the stone back where it belongs. Your souls are safe!"

The serpents hissed in agitation, drawing back and circling the group of warriors, tongues flicking out to taste the air again and again.

"Look around!" Harry ordered them. "Do you see the hole the Shadows came from any longer? Do you feel the Shadows in your souls? They are gone. We are not your enemy."

At his words the Serpents did indeed look around as if searching the ground for another gaping Well.

"The Shadows are gone?" one of them asked hesitantly, and if snakes could sound hopeful, there was hope in its voice.

"The Shadows are gone," Harry confirmed.

"And the nest that awakened them?" another asked.

Knowing that there was no translation for "ministry" and guessing the men who had opened the Well long dead anyway, Harry just nodded. "That nest is gone as well, they will not be back. I will not allow it."

And that it seemed was all the Black Wyrms needed. As one they turned and slithered away, heading toward the mountainside. They paused briefly, glancing back at the men, and then to the amazement of all, bowed in unison, dipping their diamond-shaped heads low toward Harry. And then in a flash they were gone, disappearing into the stones of the mountain and vanishing from sight.

In one breath to the next a great cheer of victory arose from the men, screams of joy and disbelief. Harry, drained beyond imagining, collapsed again to his knees only vaguely aware of hands grasping him, voices shouting at him. He tried to look up, thought for a moment he could see Severus' face hovering over his, concern in his dark eyes, thought he saw his mouth forming words though he could not hear them. And then Harry just sighed and slumped to the side, overcome at last by exhaustion.

---------------------------

Severus caught Harry as he collapsed, Remus and Sirius moving up along either side of him. "We have to get him out of here," Severus told the other two men over the roaring cheer of victory. Remus immediately used his wand to summon their brooms, shouting at the cheering men to mount up. It was Alrik who finally managed to get the men to listen -- urging them to begin gathering the dead and rising into the air before more Grendlings returned now that the Wyrms were gone.

Severus mounted his broom fluidly holding his arms out as Black lifted Harry to him. He pulled his cloak around them both, one arm holding Harry tightly against his chest while he gripped his broom-handle with the other hand. Then he rose swiftly into the air, Black and Lupin rising along side of him. The rest of the men mounted their brooms as well, rising up from the bloody ground. Below them they lay the carnage of the battlefield. Severus did not look back.

He could feel Harry shivering in his arms and he tightened his hold on him. He was magically exhausted. Severus too was wounded -- bruises and scrapes -- one deep claw mark across his left forearm that would need to be tended to soon. Remus and Sirius also had not escaped unscathed -- though the werewolf seemed to be holding up better than anyone else. Sirius he could see was holding a bunched up portion of his cloak against his side -- Severus assumed he was trying to stop some wound from bleeding.

As far as he could tell Harry had come through the battle unmarked -- all three of them along with Alrik's warriors had thrown themselves time and time again between Harry and the attacking Grendlings, taking the blows meant for him as he carried that enormous stone across the ground. And was it no wonder he was magically exhausted -- Severus had not believed his eyes when he'd seen that stone rising from the ground. But much of his shock was due to the fact that the boy had used "Wingardium Leviosa".

He'd almost shouted in denial when he'd heard Harry incant that spell, cursing himself for not going over the proper spell with the boy earlier. Lupin too had turned in horror when he'd heard the spell -- and Severus knew they were both to blame. For fear of damaging the boy's confidence they had not questioned him the night before.

And yet unbelievably, impossibly, the stone had risen from the earth despite the fact that Wingardium Leviosa had a weight limit on it. Harry should have used Leviosa Maximus -- a seventh year spell that Severus should have known the boy would not yet know.

But the true shock had come when Harry had sealed the stone in place. Locking and sealing charms were covered extensively during third year -- it had not occurred to Severus to even question which one Harry might use. As it was, he had assumed that he, Black and Lupin would add their own spells to Harry's when all was said and done -- preventing most wizards from even hoping to raise the stone again.

But once again Harry had surprised him, using a spell he had never heard before. And as he went over the spell in his head, translating out the words and thinking of the wave of magic that had washed over all of them when the Capstone had locked in place, Severus just shook his head. The boy had quite literally simply commanded the Earth herself to hold the Capstone in place. The boy had issued the command and the Earth had obeyed -- no one would lift that Capstone again.

And then moments later to see him standing there atop that stone, pale and slender, armor glittering in the Winter light as he faced down the great Black Wyrms that towered above him -- Severus had thought for a moment that his heart might stop. How he had stood there so fearlessly, speaking in that alien tongue until the serpents had not only stopped their attack but bowed to him in respect, Severus would never know. Gryffindors -- at least this one here in his arms -- were a breed apart.

He felt Harry stir in his arms and immediately tightened his hold on him, leaning forward to speak directly into his ear. "Stay still," he told him. "You're on a broom. If you move too much you might fall."

The boy stilled immediately and Severus could feel the Quidditch-trained muscles in his thighs tightening around the broom as he adjusted to his position.

"Are you injured?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse from shouting in Parseltongue.

"I'm fine," Severus assured him, seeing him turn his head to look around for Remus and Sirius. "So are they," he added. "Minor wounds only."

"How many men did we lose?" he asked then and Severus sighed, wishing just once that this boy -- this man -- would not take such responsibilities upon his shoulders.

"I don't know," he replied. "This will be accounted a great victory -- and rightly so. We lost far fewer than we would have had you not stopped the Wyrms." And then because he could not help himself, he tangled one hand in Harry's dark hair, holding his head still as he whispered directly into his ear. "You did good, Harry. Let everything else go."

Harry turned then, looking back at him, and those green eyes pulled at Severus, tugging at his heart as he'd never before known, seeking something inside of him, some answer to a question unasked. And then a moment later, Severus' breath caught in his throat as Harry raised one hand to touch his cheek, his trembling fingers lightly grazing his skin. Though ice-cold those fingers left a trail of fire along Severus' skin. And then Harry just sighed and settled back into his arms, content to let him hold him and finish the flight in silence.

The waiting families of those who had gone to fight swarmed out onto the battlements and field before Bifrost Hall as they returned. Amid the chaos of the landing army -- shouts of victories, cries of greeting, wails of despair at the deaths of those lost -- Severus landed his broom, helping Harry from it. Remus and Sirius were there at once, both men reaching out to touch the boy who hugged them before they were all ushered back inside the walls of the Keep.

Severus commandeered a quiet corner in all that chaos and set to checking the injuries of the other two men. The wound on Black's side was deep but not life threatening. Lupin took little time at all to strip Sirius to the waist and begin cleaning the wound before turning his wand on it to bandage it as best he could. While there were potions enough being handed out by healers in the Hall there were others wounded far worse.

Severus to his surprise found himself forced into a chair while Harry knelt before him wand focused on his wounded arm. Several cleaning charms and a wound-disinfecting spell later, the boy began bandaging the injury. It was not deep but would require a potion or two when he returned home.

Warrior after warrior passed by them, calling out greetings, clapping them on the back, greeting each by name. And to Harry they saluted, right arm crossed over their bodies, fist pounding against their chests as they thanked him for the victory. Harry, strangely quite, just smiled at them, green eyes looking like they belonged on someone far older.

Alrik and Asgeir, both suffering only minor wounds, found them eventually, Alrik bearing Pepper-up Potions, which he distributed to all four of them. They drank them gratefully, and Severus saw some faint color finally returning to Harry's cheeks.

"We can't thank you enough!" Asgeir grinned. "There will be a great celebration tonight and this story will go down in history as one of our greatest battles."

"We can't stay, Asgeir," Severus informed him. "By now word of Harry's disappearance will have spread through the Ministry. We must return quickly before word gets to the Dark Lord that Harry is here."

"I thought as much," Asgeir nodded. "Alrik will take you home. If you go now you can make it to the ship before night falls." They rose wearily to their feet as Asgeir turned toward the crowd of men and women in the Great Hall. "My people!" he shouted and the noise died down, all eyes turning toward them.

"Today we have won a great victory!" His words were met with cheers, men beating their fists and swords against their shields, women pounding on the long wooden tables that filled the Hall. "We owe a debt to these four men who fought along side of us!" And the roar of the crowd was deafening.

It felt strange to Severus to be on the receiving end of such praise and he found himself glancing at Lupin and Black. Lupin looked just as uncomfortable as he did, but Black was grinning and waving to the crowd, at ease beneath the attention. Harry on the other hand just stood in silence watching the men with a strange calmness that belied his years.

When at last the noise died down, Asgeir turned toward Harry and held out his hand to the boy. To Severus' surprise, when Harry took Asgeir's hand, the man clasped it tightly between both his palms and dropped to one knee before them. All the men and women in the Hall did the same, leaving Harry and the three of them standing alone there before them.

"When the war comes, Harry Potter," Asgeir stated clearly for all to hear. "Summon us. The Winter Lands will fight under your banner. So may it be!"

"So may it be!" the men and women of the Hall repeated, and the magic of their Wizards Oath was felt by all of them, washing through the crowd like a great wind. Stunned Severus could only stare at Harry, wondering if the boy understood that the Winter Lands had just sworn an oath of fealty to him.

But it seemed as if Harry understood some of it, for he bowed his head in acknowledgement to Asgeir. "I'm honored by your trust, " he said quietly in the silence of the Hall, and everyone heard him. "Thank you."

Asgeir rose then, and the crowd again cheered, men and women coming forward to shake their hands once more. Amid the crowd, Severus exchanged looks with Remus and Sirius, seeing in their eyes the same worry he felt in his own heart. It seemed, no matter what he did, that the world was conspiring to thrust Harry into the center of the storm. And nothing any of them did seemed to stop it.

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Author's Notes: Alas, I have caught up to myself and am still the in the process of writing the next scene. This means I will no longer be updating nightly. I will post each section as I write it, but you will have to bear with me.

I've enjoyed all your suggestions and encouragements -- I hope you found the battle satisfactory. Don't worry, you will eventually get to see what the ramifications of all the events will be.

Next up, Harry returns to Hogwarts to confront the Ministry.


	37. Chapter 37 The Other Side

Chap 37 - The Other Side:

Lucius Malfoy had never been in a patient man, and in the last two days his patience had been tested to the limit. Yet, he steeled his features into impassivity, knowing that while he was not the center of attention here, he was being closely watched. If nothing else, his son Draco was watching him intently to take a cue from him on how to behave in this rather bizarre situation.

Lucius stood off to one side of the raised platform where the Hogwart's staff normally ate their dinner, and watched as Minister Fudge and several other Ministry candidates were rather expertly manipulated by Dumbledore and his followers. The Great Hall of Hogwarts was crowded, not just with the students who had returned from the Holidays yesterday, but with Aurors and the entire Press Corp of every Wizarding paper in Britain. The Boy Who Lived was presumed missing -- possibly kidnapped if the rumors were to be believed -- it was likely the story of the century. Or at the very least, the story of the week -- no doubt something more amazing would happen in a day or two that would make this seem pathetic in comparison.

Lucius had been in a private meeting with Minister Fudge when one of the man's spies -- aides -- had informed them that something was going on with Potter. Dumbledore was speaking with various members of the Wizengamut and the Auror Department. Chaos had followed Fudge and a dozen other candidates whose spies -- aides -- had also informed them of the situation. Lucius had followed along, hoping to glean some useful information out of the situation.

Truthfully he had thought about going straight to Lord Voldemort with the information that Potter was potentially missing. Problem was, he couldn't exactly confirm that. Oh, there was definitely something going on -- it seemed Lord Brand of the Winter Land had 'taken' Potter somewhere, but Lucius had no idea where that 'somewhere' might be. And while Dumbledore seemed dead set on getting Potter back, he was also making it extremely difficult for anyone, even the Aurors, to find out where it was Potter might have been taken.

The whole chaotic mess had quickly moved to Hogwarts -- to question witnesses Fudge had explained -- and there the story had become even more convoluted. The only three witnesses, the Weasley children and the Mudblood Granger, seemed to have been struck with a stupidity charm as they could not answer a question clearly to save their lives. As for the teachers -- according to McGonagall, Potter was in Germany, Flitwick claimed he was in France, Sprout claimed he was in Russia, and Hagrid actually had the gall to claim that Potter had been taken to Hawaii. The only place no one had suggested was the Winter Lands themselves -- which meant of course that it was likely he was there. But without proof -- exact, unquestionable, accurate proof -- Lucius didn't dare go to Voldemort with the information.

Lucius shuddered with the thought of going before Lord Voldemort any time soon. He was still suffering a faint tremor in his left arm from the last time he had taken the initiative and tried to curry favor with the Dark Lord. A few seconds longer under the Cruciatus Curse, and he would have suffered permanent nerve damage, possibly madness. As it was, he still didn't understand what he had done wrong.

When Voldemort had returned he had seemed disgusted with the body he'd been trapped inside -- the reptilian features were really repulsive. Lucius had set out to find a potion to restore his human form to its former glory, and after much expense on his part, had finally succeeded. But somehow in the time it took Lucius to find the restoration potion, Voldemort had grown fond of his new form -- indeed it seemed to Lucius as if he was transforming still, becoming more reptilian each time he saw him. When Lucius had presented the potion to the man and explained what it did, Voldemort had reacted with rage, destroying the potion and nearly killing Lucius in the process.

There was no way around the fact -- the Dark Lord was utterly unhinged. And he was growing more so each day. All of them had noticed -- even Bellatrix who was barely sane herself. And the more insane the Dark Lord grew, the more withdrawn he became from all of them. They all knew he was planning something -- something big -- but none of them knew what it was. And he had other servants now -- not Death Eaters, but something else, something darker. Twice now Lucius had seen him walking in the gardens of the Fortress in Spain accompanied by figures cloaked and hooded all in black. Not Dementors, but something like them, something horrible. Their very presence filled Lucius with a sense of horror, and that was saying something after all the years he'd spent practicing the Dark Arts.

Lucius was no stranger to blood and death, even the occasional murder -- would anyone really miss a few Muggles? But there was something else going on here, something worse than a few killings. Something he was fairly certain he wanted no part in.

But what was he to do about it? This wasn't really what he'd signed up for -- Voldemort had been a charismatic leader, a true king among men. Lucius, and those like him, had craved that --- someone to follow, someone strong and great and fearless to lead them. Someone who would put the Wizarding world back on track, return them to their rightful places in society instead of forcing them to cower and submit before pitiful, pathetic Muggles. Even now the Muggles were trying to tighten the screws once again; the Muggle Prime Minister had proposed the Wizarding Registration Act, which would require every Wizard and Witch in Britain to register with the Ministry as if they were little more than animals who needed licenses to exist. And for whatever ridiculous reasons, the Ministry of Magic was considering agreeing to the thing just to placate the Muggle government. Why in Merlin's name they needed to placate the Muggle government, Lucius would never understand. But the very idea made him want to murder Muggles.

And Lord Voldemort -- he had laughed when he'd heard the news -- laughed! As if he found the whole thing amusing, as if this somehow fit in perfectly with his plans -- or as if it no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. Lucius didn't understand. None of them did -- this was the very thing they were supposed to be fighting against. But Lord Voldemort, caught up in his own world now, didn't seem to care.

Every hope and dream Lucius had had about restoring the Wizarding World to its former glory was crumbling around him. And he felt trapped with nowhere to run; all he could do was try to keep a leash on the Ministry through bribery and blackmail. And with the election looming -- and no candidate yet thrust to the front of the pack -- he was uncertain whom he should be backing.

For the hundredth time, he wished Severus hadn't betrayed them. Severus had always been his sounding board, always willing to argue any stance Lucius might be considering, always willing to play the Devil's Advocate. But in light of his betrayal, Lucius could see now that it wasn't the Devil's Advocate he'd been playing -- Severus had actually been attempting to manipulate Lucius into changing his viewpoint.

But why! That above all else, he could not figure out. He had always assumed that Severus, like all of them, had been drawn to power. Voldemort was the means to obtaining that power -- or at least he had been before this new madness had gripped him. Why would Severus abandon that for Dumbledore -- a man who would never step up and take the leadership role in their world? Dumbledore was happy here in his school, manipulating the world from the sidelines. He had no desire to step into the heart of the storm and actually change anything. And yet Severus had turned his back on everything to follow Dumbledore into obscurity and marry that silly broom-riding Gryffindor. What could Dumbledore have promised him? Besides Potter, of course -- Lucius found himself laughing silently at the thought. Surely Severus had not been swayed by a pretty face -- or pretty ass as the case may be?

Lucius glanced around the Great Hall -- the Minister was working himself up quite spectacularly, the press writing down everything he said. Madam Bones, perhaps his most well known Ministry rival, was attempting to instill some sense of order on the proceedings. Lady Marla Davenport and Alexander Mulburg, two other Ministry candidates were doing everything in their power to get their own words heard. Mulburg was actually suggesting that the only possible course of action was to invade Hawaii -- apparently he believed Hagrid's story. And Davenport felt that imposing import sanctions on both Germany and Russia were necessary. Apparently no one believed France had anything to do with the 'kidnapping'.

Vicund Blackborn, a rather obscure offshoot of the Black family, was suggesting a letter writing campaign to Lord Brand, and Dulcinda Marshawnd was trying to convince everyone that this was a prelude to a new Viking Invasion. Any time two or more of the Ministry candidates came even close to agreeing on a course of action, Dumbledore or one of his people quietly murmured something, which would send them off in a completely different direction. Lucius could only conclude that Dumbledore guessed that regardless of what was really going on, the Ministry involvement would only screw things up; the man was stalling for time.

Fudge, Lucius suspected, knew more than he was letting on. The man had sent for Connor Stark, the leader of a crack team of Aurors. Already Aurors were gathering, joining the children in the Great Hall. Lucius guessed that Fudge was planning on sending them directly into the Winter Lands to retrieve Potter -- he just wanted to make certain the whole thing was staged perfectly for the press. Rita Skeeter never once left the Minister's side.

Across the hall at Gryffindor table, Lucius could see Arthur and Molly Weasley sitting with their children. When word of Potter's kidnapping had reached them, all the Weasleys had come to Hogwarts to be with the younger children. Lucius had to admit to a pang of intense jealousy when he saw Arthur sitting there with his 7 healthy children. He'd always wanted more than one child, but Narcissa had refused. As it was Narcissa was just about the coldest woman Lucius had ever met in his life -- he counted himself lucky he had Draco. Molly Weasley might be no match for Narcissa in both looks and class, but at least she didn't turn away from her marital duties.

Arthur caught Lucius looking at them, and quickly Lucius sneered at the man because --- well, it was what he did. Just beyond the Gryffindor table, he saw Draco catch the exchange and immediately turn to sneer at all the Weasleys as well. Lucius suspected Draco didn't have a clue as to why he was sneering, beyond the fact that they were Weasleys of course. And then Lucius caught a look -- something unexpected -- as Draco's gaze moved over the second oldest Weasley boy, the dragon tamer if Lucius remembered correctly. His pale son flushed a most unbecoming shade of red and quickly averted his eyes as the Weasley boy looked up and winked at him.

Well, hell, Lucius thought. When had THAT happened?

It was then that the door to the Great Hall opened, and the room fell utterly silent.

Four men stepped through the doorway into the Hall and Lucius found himself frowning at the sight. He of course recognized his traitorous friend Severus Snape, dressed in Wyvern leathers, his sword sheathed and hanging over his shoulder. He looked rather wild and windblown -- rather like a Gryffindor with his hair tangled in those messy locks, though there was no mistaking that Patrician profile of his.

And the other man, also clad in dark battle-scarred leathers, was Remus Lupin. He held an enormous war mace lightly in one hand, the display of strength reminding Lucius all too clearly of his werewolf heritage --- as if the gleaming amber eyes that flashed momentarily yellow in the torchlight were not reminder enough. Sometimes he thought Dumbledore's people were mad -- letting a werewolf run freely among them. Who knew what infection he was spreading?

The other man was enormously tall, golden-haired and wearing the leather and fur armor of a Winter Land Viking. He had to be one of Brand's men Lucius guessed -- perhaps the missing husband of Lady Diana Snape-Brand who even now sat in Severus' seat at the head table.

But it was the fourth figure that drew all of Lucius' attention. Clad in a gleaming coat of scale-mail, metal bracers around his arms and legs, Harry Potter looked nothing like the boy Lucius remembered. Granted he had not really spoken to the boy since the disaster with Riddle's diary, and had only briefly seen him the night Lord Voldemort had returned to them, but the boy had changed a great deal since then.

The glasses were gone, the hair longer, the body a bit taller -- but really it was the look the in the boy's green eyes that caught Lucius most off guard. There was power in those eyes -- a quiet power, one buried and hidden, but Lucius could see it clearly. He'd always been drawn to power -- knew how to recognize it in its most obscure forms, and this boy had power Lucius had not guessed at. Had he simply grown into it, stumbled across it, been given it by outside forces, or had it always been there? Surely he must have possessed something of it to have defeated Voldemort as a baby, but why had Lucius never noticed it before? Perhaps it was nothing more than a trick of the light? He had to admit it was rather attractive -- deliciously so. Maybe Severus really had been swayed by the boy alone?

"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore's voice startled them all out of their silence. The old man moved swiftly forward to take hold of both of Harry's hands. "Thank Merlin you've returned." The relief on the old man's face was obvious to all. Lucius sneered. Potter really was Dumbledore's favorite golden child.

"I'm alright sir," Potter assured him quietly.

"Mr. Potter!" Fudge exclaimed, stepping forward as well. Lucius imagined he was rather put out to have had his speech interrupted -- he'd been telling the Press Corp about his plans to rescue the boy hero. "We were under the impression you were being held prisoner!" Fudge didn't handle change well -- he sounded angry by Potter's return, a tactical error Lucius thought.

The boy glanced over at the waiting Press Corp, his eyes lingering briefly on Rita Skeeter before returning to the Minister. "And your response was to wait three days and then hold a press conference?" he asked plainly.

A murmur of surprise sounded through the room and Fudge stopped and sputtered indignantly. Lucius had to stifle his own impulse to smile. The boy was certainly outspoken, even insolent. Even Dumbledore's mouth twitched upward at the words.

"Rescue operations take planning and time, Mr. Potter!" Fudge protested.

Potter merely nodded. "I'm glad my family was not so impeded," he gestured to Severus and Lupin, and Lucius had to wonder what Severus though about being claimed in a 'family' that included a werewolf. But surprisingly, Severus said nothing. Perhaps he'd already been infected by the wolf's darkness.

But Potter's gesture had drawn Fudge's attention to the fourth man with them, and the Minister's eyes widened as he too realized that this must be one of Brand's men. He snapped his fingers at his Aurors, motioning Connor Stark forward. "Stark, arrest that man!"

But before the Aurors could take even one step toward him, Potter stepped forward, placing himself between the stranger and the Aurors. "You will not," he stated simply, and the Aurors all stopped dead in their tracks. It was a display of a type of power Lucius had not expected and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

Lucius had not been present at the battle last summer that had taken so many lives, but he'd heard plenty of stories in the aftermath. After what Potter had done, there were very few Aurors who would raise a hand against the Boy Who Lived, regardless of the Minister's orders. The boy was a hero in their eyes.

"Mr. Potter!" Minister Fudge protested. "We were told that Brand of the Winter Lands had kidnapped you. That man is Brand's son. Are you--"

"You are mistaken, Minister," Potter interrupted. "It was merely a misunderstanding."

Fudge frowned. "Really?" he demanded. "And was the attack against the Weasley children and Ms. Granger, also a misunderstanding?"

All eyes turned toward the children in question. Lucius saw all three children staring intently at Potter before the boy, Ron, just nodded and grinned. "If Harry says it's a misunderstanding, then it's a misunderstanding." The two girls nodded quickly in agreement. Lucius had to shake his head at the loyalty inspired by the boy -- they obviously had no clue what was going on but were willing to take Potter's word on faith alone.

Fudge turned a furious gaze on Dumbledore; Fudge didn't want to leave without arresting someone. It would make him look ineffectual if he did not. "Albus, I can not allow this to be simply swept under the table. If a crime has been committed, it is my duty to--"

"A crime has been committed, Minister," Potter interrupted again, drawing all eyes toward him. The press were furiously snapping pictures and taking notes. "For one hundred years the Winter Lands have been asking for help from the Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry has been ignoring them. If that is not a crime, I don't know what is."

Lucius had no idea what precisely Potter was referring to, but he could tell by the look that flashed through Fudge's eyes, that he has some inkling. Fudge might be an ineffectual leader, but he was a consummate politician. He knew that the presence of the press was no longer in his favor.

"I don't know what on earth is going on here, but I insist we deal with this tonight and clear up whatever misunderstanding has occurred. Albus, if you have someplace private where we may question these people." Fudge motioned specifically to Potter and Brand's son, even while nodding to his Aurors to clear out the Press Corp.

Seeing their story disappearing right before their eyes, the group of reporters surged forward, cameras flashing, Quick Quills writing furiously. "Mr. Potter!" they all shouted as one and then began shouting question after question at the boy. Severus, Lupin and the Viking immediately stepped in front of the boy, and the staff of teachers at the table, surged forward to drive the reporters back.

Lucius, standing well out of range of both the press and their prey, found the whole scene rather amusing -- like a well choreographed dance. Dumbledore had his people well trained. While the staff and Potter's three guardians drove the press out of the hall with the Aurors lending their aid, the Weasleys swarmed forward, surrounded Potter and pulled him into the midst of a group of Gryffindors. No one had a chance of coming even remotely close to the boy.

With the exception of Madame Bones, who was a member of the Wizengamut, the other Ministry candidates were also driven from the room. Lucius had no doubt they would be driven from Hogwarts in a matter of moments as well -- though they would likely hold their own press conferences down in Hogsmeade shortly.

Lucius stayed in the background, remaining as unobtrusive as possible, and when Fudge and the others began moving from the Great Hall to whatever private room Dumbledore set aside for them, Lucius followed along silently, keeping an eye on Potter as he was ushered after them. Sadly, he was stopped at the door by McGonagall herself, who merely gave him a look that could wither stone.

"Mr. Malfoy," she sniffed. "Where do you think you are going?"

"Come now, Minerva," he smiled coldly at her. "As a member of the Board of Governors it is my right to make certain that the students of Hogwarts are well protected. I have every right to hear Mr. Potter's story."

But McGonagall was unmoved. "As you heard, there was no kidnapping. Therefore there is no need for the Board of Governors to become involved. I'm sure you'll hear all about it later. But for now I must ask you to leave the premises."

"Surely you won't deny me the right to speak with my son?" Lucius asked. "I'm sure he was most shaken up by these events."

She merely raised one eyebrow coldly. "As you wish," she replied, and pointed in the opposite direction. "Slytherin's dormitory is that way, if you remember. Or shall I summon a student to show you the way? "

"That won't be necessary," Lucius glared back, wondering if it were some gift the woman had to make him feel like a recalcitrant child. He turned on his heel and headed down the torch lit corridor.

Perhaps he'd head down to Severus' quarters and wait for his 'old friend'? Or perhaps he'd head down to the Slytherin common room and see if Draco could find out something more for him -- or at the very least find out what Draco's fascination with the Weasley spawn was all about -- he certainly was not going to allow ANYTHING to come of that.

Either way, he wasn't going to head back home, or back to Lord Voldemort without something more than a bunch of events that would merely lead to more questions. Getting asked questions by Lord Voldemort when you did not know the answers was a bad thing -- a very bad thing.

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Author's Note:

Sorry I've been away for so long! It was unintentional. I had some issues in real life that kept me away from the computer and was unable to work on anything, let alone answer any emails. But thank you to everyone who wrote to me during the interim. I've been very anxious to get back to my writing and hope to actually finish this story one of these days. I hope you'll bear with me if a few more errors that most appear in this chapter -- I wanted to get it posted quickly and did not spare much time for a beta-reader.

Now, no doubt you are probably wondering why I spent a whole chapter on Lucius Malfoy. Well, while I was working on the next bit, Malfoy just showed up and decided to throw a wrench into the works -- a side plot developed that rather caught me off guard and I decided to go with it. As you may have noticed if you picked up a clue or two it will have something to do with Draco.

On to the next chapter! I'm editing it now and will get it up ASAP.


	38. Chapter 38 Politics

Chapter 38 - Politics

Severus motioned to Minerva as he ushered Harry into the private room where Dumbledore had taken Fudge. The woman caught on immediately, taking up guard position at the door to prevent Lucius Malfoy from following them. It had not escaped Severus' notice how Lucius had stared at Harry -- he wasn't about to allow the man anywhere near Harry.

While Fudge and Madam Bones took the seats Dumbledore offered to them, Molly Weasley lit the fire in the enormous fireplace. Severus watched as his sister was reunited with her husband. A quick grasp of hands, an exchange of glances were all they allowed themselves, but Severus could see the emotion behind the greeting all the same. Diana had truly feared that she would not see Alrik again; her relief was plain on her face.

The rest of the Weasleys crowded into the room along with Hermione Granger and several members of the Hogwart's staff. Harry was subjected to an enormous hug from Hagrid, which amused everyone. Even the Auror Stark smirked in amusement as Harry patted the half-giant on the back and tried to assure him he was fine while preventing his lungs from being crushed by the man's embrace. Minerva waited until everyone was in the room before entering and pulling the door firmly closed behind her. Severus sensed several privacy wards going up -- no doubt to keep information from getting out to the members of the press that might have remained behind unobtrusively.

Surprisingly, it was Harry who started the conversation, turning unexpectedly on the Minister after Hagrid had released him. "One hundred and fifty years ago, the Ministry came to the Winter Lands, opened the Well of Despair and began collecting Dementors for Azkaban. Why was the Well left opened? Why was the Winter Land's request for aid ignored?"

A quick judge of the expressions in the room clued Severus into the fact that very few people here had any idea what Harry was talking about. Dumbledore himself looked surprised and glanced over at Percy Weasley who was frowning deeply and searching through a rather large pile of papers he'd been carrying with him.

Fudge on the other hand just scoffed at Harry's words. "Because we knew there was no immediate threat."

Alrik leaped to his feet at that, despite the restraining hand Diana placed on his arm. "No threat! We were overrun by Dementors!"

Fudge just sneered at the man and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous! There was an Environmental Impact Study done. The Winter Lands were determined to be able to support a population of 500 Dementors before there would be any threat to the human inhabitants. One Dementors for every 200 square miles of land is no threat to a Wizarding population."

They all stared incredulously at Fudge at such a statement.

It was Hagrid who corrected him. "'Course that's makin' the 'sumption they stay on their bit o' land, innit?"

Alrik glared at Fudge. "Did it occur to anyone in the Ministry that they'd hunt together in a pack and go to where their natural food source is? They feed on souls -- they went to where the humans were. What were we supposed to do, stay locked inside our Keeps night and day?"

But still Fudge waved off the protest as if it were meaningless. "They didn't need to go after humans. They had an adequate food source away from the human population."

Severus, along with the others in the room, had no idea what he might have meant by an adequate food source. As far as he knew Dementors only fed on human souls -- but he could see by a look of shock in Harry's eyes that he understood what the man had said.

"You mean the Wyrms?" The boy looked sickened by the realization and Severus wished now he had taken the time to ask Harry what he had said to the Wyrms to make them back away from the fight. At the time, he hadn't cared beyond the fact that the battle was over. He couldn't help remembering now how the Wyrms had turned as one and bowed to the boy in respect. "How can you blithely sacrifice Dragons like that? I thought Dragons were a protected species?" He glanced at Charlie Weasley as if for confirmation. But the Minister cut in before Charlie could answer.

"They are not Dragons!" the Minister stamped his foot. "They're animals. Under the Magical Creature Classification Act they are listed as animals, nothing more."

But Harry shook his head. "They're intelligent creatures capable of speech. To call them a food source for Dementors you must have been aware of the fact that they had souls. What's more, they know they have souls, and fear losing them just like humans do. Furthermore they are capable of compassion -- of forgiveness. They attacked us when we fought the Dementors, but when I explained that we had imprisoned the Dementors and sealed the Well, they abandoned their attack and returned home."

Fudge froze at that, his eyes widening. "What do you mean you imprisoned the Dementors and sealed the Well?"

"They were killing people," Harry informed him. "Devouring their souls. Men, women and children! What else did you think we would do?"

"You stupid boy!" Fudge shouted, seeming for a moment to forget there was anyone else there. Severus stiffened, reaching for his wand as he feared Fudge might attack Harry in his rage. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

But Severus was not about to allow Harry to be attacked for this -- not for something that needed to be done, something that should have been done by the Ministry. "What are you talking about?"

"We need those Dementors!" Fudge turned his rather wild gaze on Dumbledore as if seeking some help there. "You-Know-Who is gathering an army. You know this, Albus. We need those Dementors to fight."

Dumbledore just shook his head, his blue eyes hard behind his glasses. "I've warned you before, Cornelius. Dementors are Dark Creatures. They will not side with the Ministry. If Voldemort calls them, they will go where he commands." The majority of the people in the room flinched as the Dark Lord was named, and Fudge drew back in horror.

"They've been working for the Ministry for one hundred and fifty years," the Minister insisted. "We have no reason to believe they will turn on us. You have no proof of this Albus."

But Harry was neither swayed nor frightened, and his eyes were burning with anger. "And the fact that they've been killing people in the Winter Lands doesn't bother you?"

"We have no evidence of that," Fudge informed him, his face pale.

It was Alrik who laughed incredulously. "No evidence! What about all the formal requests for aid we've filed with the Ministry, year after year! Were they just ignored?"

Fudge gave the man a condescending sneer. "They were all received and voted on by the Wizengamut. I assure you my administration does not ignore requests. Everything was managed quite legally."

Both Dumbledore and Madam Bones looked alarmed at that, glancing at each other in bewilderment. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Minister Fudge?" Madam Bones demanded. "I remember no such request."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "I've served on the Wizengamut for seventy five years. I saw no such request for aid either."

Surprisingly it was Percy Weasley who spoke up then, holding up several large packs of paper and scrolls. "Actually, sir, I have the paperwork right here of the most recent petition from the Winter Lands. After it went through the Translation Department, it was voted on by the Wizengamut."

"Translated?" Alrik asked in bewilderment as he crossed the room swiftly to Percy's side and took hold of the paperwork. He began leafing through the pages, his eyes widening in shock. "This is written in Old English!"

Percy nodded in agreement. "All the requests are written in Old English -- few members of the Wizengamut understand it, so it is first translated which causes a bit of a delay."

But Alrik looked outraged. "None of our requests are written in Old English! I wrote many of them myself -- in modern English! This isn't even my handwriting!"

Dumbledore came forward and took the papers from the fuming Viking, quickly scanning through the documents. Madam Bones peered over his shoulder at the writing. "This isn't a request for aid," Dumbledore announced. "What was voted on was the continuing status of a Protected Wildlife Preserve."

"Wildlife Preserve?" Alrik looked horrified and Severus had to sympathize with the man, horrified himself.

"So what -- the Dementors are a protected species?" Severus demanded of the Minister. "And humans and Wyrms are their natural food source?"

"Who could do this?" Alrik demanded. "How could this happen?"

"Come now," Fudge cut in, looking calm once again. "I'm certain nothing sinister is at play. But mistakes happen when documents are poorly translated."

"There was nothing to translate!" Alrik shouted at him. "I told you, we did not write anything in Old English!"

"So you say," Fudge just shrugged.

Harry's voice caught them all off guard, for it was low and angry and filled with a quiet rage that permeated the room. "You knew this was not right. You knew exactly what was going on and you did nothing to stop it!"

Fudge turned on the boy. "What I know is that you are attempting to interfere in matters you know nothing about. And we at the Ministry do not take kidnapping -- false or otherwise -- lightly!"

"And I do not take the murder of innocent men, women and children lightly!" Harry snarled and like so often happened with Harry grew angry, his power raced through the room and all the furniture in the place began shaking violently, occupied or not. Fudge backed away from Harry in alarm, fear flashing across his face.

"Stark!" he shouted out as if to command the Auror to protect him. But Connor Stark was no more foolish than anyone else in the room; he backed away from Harry and raised both his hands as if to show he had no wand drawn.

It was Dumbledore who moved forward and confronted Harry, placing one strong hand on the boy's armored shoulder, his blue eyes intent on the boy's face. "Harry," he said softly and just like that the furniture stilled as if something had reached out and pulled Harry's power back into check.

Dumbledore turned a stern gaze on Fudge. "Cornelius," he stated, catching the man's full attention by the anger in his own voice -- Dumbledore was so rarely angered. "Did you know about this? Did you know what was going on?"

Fudge shook his head wildly. "Albus, of course not! I'm just doing my job! Doing what is expected of me."

"And that's all you care about, isn't it?" Harry demanded. "Your job. You care nothing about the people you are supposed to lead and protect. You care nothing about the lives that have been lost. All you care about is getting re-elected."

Fudge glared at Harry. "Mr. Potter, I will not have--"

"You will not have anything from me, Minister!" Harry interrupted him and Severus found himself tensing nervously, hearing the finality in Harry's voice, and understanding that whatever the boy declared now would hold all of them to a binding path. The Gryffindor did not realize how much power he wielded.

"No support, no vote!" Harry continued, and his words pretty much confirmed that Dumbledore, Severus, Sirius Black, Flitwick and McGonagall, all of whom held numerous votes would not be backing Fudge either -- Madam Bones of course had always been the man's rival and things just improved drastically for her. Severus guessed that the Winter Lands as well, who among the various Lords had numerous votes, would not lend their votes to Fudge either. But once again his brother-in-law surprised him, going one step further.

"You will having nothing from the Winter Lands as well," Alrik informed him. "As of this moment we transfer our Protectorate status to Mr. Potter."

Severus found himself sinking down into a chair, which Bill Weasley shoved toward him unobtrusively while Fudge sputtered in shock.

"You can't do that!" the Minister protested. "Mr. Potter is not a nation! He can not hold a Protectorate!"

Severus could tell by the look on Harry's face that he had no idea what had just happened, but Severus understood the nuances of Viking law well enough to guess at what Alrik was about to say. "Not three hours ago every lord in the Winter Lands swore an oath of fealty to Mr. Potter. By Winter Land law that gives him the status of king, and more than capable of holding a Protectorate. If you want anything from the Winter Lands - our crops, the armor we make for your Auror Corp, the ore we mine for Wizarding Steel, the countless Potion ingredients we supply to your Hospitals -- you will have to re-negotiate. As of this moment, all treaties between the Winter Lands and Britain are null and void."

Fudge looked shocked, which Severus guessed was about how everyone else in the room was feeling, himself included. "You can't do this!" the Minister protested again. He turned toward Dumbledore. "Albus?"

Dumbledore just shook his head. "I'm afraid he can, Cornelius."

"But that is the same as declaring war against Britain!" Fudge exclaimed, staring at Alrik in disbelief.

Alrik just shrugged and smirked at the man, seeming to be enjoying his discomfort. "Oh, I hardly think we have anything to worry about when it comes to war with Britain. As you said you have another war to worry about first. You can not afford to battle against us and the Dark Lord."

"And if You-Know-Who chooses to attack the Winter Lands, what will you do without the Ministry's protection?" Fudge demanded.

"The Ministry has already proven, quite effectively, that they have no intention of protecting us; quite the contrary, they will sacrifice us to protect themselves," Alrik replied coldly. "I do not know if the Dark Lord can be defeated. But I do know that if he can, it will not be done by the Ministry, but by Harry Potter and those who stand with him."

Furious, Fudge turned toward Stark, pointing a finger imperiously at Alrik. "Stark, you will arr---"

"I hope you're not about to order me to arrest a foreign dignitary, Minister Fudge," Stark cut in quickly. "Which if I understand the law correctly is what Lord Brand just became a few moments ago." He looked to Dumbledore for confirmation and received an amused nod. "So you see," he shrugged. "Without a formal declaration of war against the Winter Lands, that would be an illegal arrest order."

"Well, then I formally--" Fudge began only to be cut off by Dumbledore.

"You can not formally declare war without full ratification by the Wizengamut, which I assure you, you will not get."

"No, you will not," Madam Bones agreed. She seemed torn by both shock and amusement by the events unfolding in front of her. "My goodness, Cornelius, I do believe you are the first Minister in centuries to have lost a Protectorate of Britain. The press will have a field day with this!"

Fudge just stared in shock as Madam Bones turned to Dumbledore and smiled rather smugly. "You must excuse me, Albus. I feel it is my civic duty to inform the public about what has taken place tonight. I believe the Press Corp is down in Hogsmeade as we speak."

"I understand completely," Dumbledore assured her, his blue eyes twinkling brightly. Madam Bones headed straight toward the door, a surprising spring in her step.

"But, but, but!!!! Wait!" Fudge cried in panic, and when she did not stop, he raced after her, disappearing through the door.

"Well, on that note," Stark announced. "I think I'll gather my Aurors together and get back to my real job. " He nodded respectfully to Dumbledore. "Albus."

"Good evening to you, Auror Stark," Albus smiled.

The man paused before leaving, giving Harry a quick smile. "Mr. Potter, as always it's been a pleasure." And then he too exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Dead silence followed his departure until finally, in a baffled voice, Harry asked, "What just happened here?"

Laughter followed his words as the tension broke. "You just got promoted, mate!" one of the Weasley twins informed him. The other chimed in immediately," Good show there, Harry!"

Harry however looked horrified as he turned his gaze toward Alrik. "You weren't serious about the whole king thing!"

"Relax, Harry," Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

When Harry started to look a bit pale, Charlie shoved a chair forward and the boy sank down into it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alrik just laughed. "We've been a self-governing nation for centuries, Harry. This changes nothing."

"Then the title is completely honorary," Remus asked, attempting to confirm what they were all thinking. Severus however knew there was more to it than that.

Alrik sighed. "Not exactly. We are a warrior nation. If Harry summons us, we will come and fight for him. But there is no demand of rulership or government. We will continue on as we always have."

"And what if Voldemort attacks you?" Harry asked in shock. "Swords and armor are all well and fine against Grendlings, but they are no match for an army of Death Eaters. I can not protect you alone, and I have no resources to call upon!"

For a moment there was silence in the room as everyone stared at the boy sitting before them, clad like a young prince in glittering armor, head bowed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And perhaps it was, Severus thought, as it was brought home to him once again that what anyone else might see as a privilege to be exploited, Harry instead saw as a duty -- perhaps even a sacred duty that he was terrified of failing.

Alrik sighed and smiled gently, moving to kneel on one knee at Harry side. "Harry, my father and I discussed this with the other Winter Land lords last night. We all knew the risks."

Harry looked up then, his green eyes wide with worry. "You planned this then?"

"No," Alrik shook his head. "But we discussed the possibility if our worse fears were confirmed and the Ministry had abandoned us. But they have done more than abandoned us, they have betrayed us Harry, in the worst possible way. We knew the risks in this action, but I do not think it is a great one. There are only two things in our land that could be of any interest to the Dark Lord -- Dementors and raw ore for Wizarding Steel. The Dementors are now gone thanks to you, and if he comes for our ore, we will destroy our mines and retreated into the mountains. It would be far more trouble than its worth. It would be far easier for his Death Eaters to purchase finished weapons from other sources."

His words seem to calm Harry somewhat, though the haunted look did not truly leave the boy's eyes. Alrik clapped him lightly on the shoulder and stood to face Dumbledore.

"I should return to my father and inform him what has taken place, sir," he said respectfully.

Dumbledore nodded and pulled a small pouch from one of the inner pockets of his dark blue robes. "This might make the trip a bit easier."

Alrik opened the pouch and poured out a large quantity of what looked to be Butterbeer bottle caps into his hand. He looked at Dumbledore in confusion.

The old wizard just stroked his long white beard and shrugged. "Portkeys," he explained. "They'll take you directly to gates of Bifrost Hall."

Alarmed, Alrik looked at the large number of bottle caps, calculating how many people could be transported with that many portkeys.

"Well," Albus shrugged innocently. "We weren't certain what had happened to Harry. We thought Severus and the others might need a bit of help. I was about to gather the Order."

Alrik turned to stare at Severus in shock. "You weren't kidding about the army of angry wizards?"

Severus just shook his head at his brother-in-law.

"Albus," Remus cut in. "What about Sirius? The Press will be crawling all over this place when they learn what happened tonight."

"You're right of course," Albus nodded and gave Alrik a piercing stare. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to take Sirius with you when you return to the Winter Lands -- if only for a few weeks at least."

"Of course," Alrik agreed. "My father granted him asylum already. And after the events of tonight, he is essentially a free man within our borders. He may stay as long as necessary. Truthfully, we'll welcome someone of his strength to help us get things back to normal." He glanced at Remus and nodded assuringly at him. "I'll collect him when I leave."

"As for the rest of you," Dumbledore announced. "We should get Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione in bed -- they have classes tomorrow. Severus if you would escort Harry down to your rooms, and perhaps the twins can take Ron, Ginny and Hermione up to Gryffindor Tower. I would appreciate if the rest of you help me clear out any remaining visitors from the castle."

As Severus stood to escort Harry back to their rooms, he caught the nod from Albus and understood that all of them would be meeting afterward to speak further on this matter. No doubt Albus was dying to know what had transpired in the Winter Lands to make its lords swear an oath of fealty to a boy they had just kidnapped.

Severus ushered Harry out of the room and down toward the dungeons of Hogwarts, moving into Slytherin territory. The young man was silent, and there was a gray cast to his face that Severus did not like. He guessed that at last the boy had reached the end of his strength -- or at least the limit of his ability to deal with the chaos of his life. Severus could only hope that this would be the end of surprises for a while. He wasn't certain how much more he could take. Truthfully he felt like locking Harry in their quarters and forbidding him to leave -- at least for a year or so.

They reached their portrait and Severus quietly murmured the password. Harry stepped into the room with a strange sigh of relief as if he too might like to remain there and not come out.

The boy crossed to the fireplace, sinking down onto one of the couches. The metal scales of his armor clinked together as he sat.

"Let me help you with your armor," Severus offered. Harry made no protest as Severus knelt in front of him and began undoing his belt. He sat passively by while Severus removed the armor he and Black had clad him in earlier that day, first the shin guards, then the arm bracers.

"Stand," he ordered, and the young man obediently rose to his feet, raising his arms. Severus caught the hem of the mail shirt and pulled it smoothly upward and over his head, carefully lifting it off his body. Though the armor was nearly weightless, it still pressed against the body in strange ways, and the padding beneath showed signs of wear. Severus couldn't help wondering if the body beneath would be bruised as well -- he did not know if Harry had been struck during the battle that day.

"Are you injured at all?" he asked, worried suddenly.

But Harry shook his head. "A few bruises. I'm fine. I think I'd just like to sleep."

"Take a hot bath before you do," Severus advised. "I'm going to go help Albus clear out the castle. I'll return later. Do not let anyone into the room. If you need something, summon that blasted house elf that is so fond of you."

Harry just nodded and proceeded toward the bedroom door, and Severus found himself watching him in concern. He was closed off and quiet -- a state that was unnatural to a Gryffindor. And Severus was not the sort of person who knew how to deal with emotional upheaval. Perhaps Remus would have been a better person to tend to him just now, though Severus was loathed to admit such a thing.

He waited until the door to the bedroom had closed before he summoned the house elf himself. The strange little creature, who seemed to be clad in a brand new Weasley sweater bearing a large blue 'D' on the front, appeared instantly in front of him. Severus tossed the shirt of armor to the creature. "Clean that and the rest of it," he ordered the elf. "And remain in this room. Harry is in taking a bath. I expect you to guard him and bring him anything he asks for. There were a lot of strangers in the castle tonight, and I do not want any of them getting in here and disturbing the boy. Do you understand?"

The elf's eyes grew wide, his ears perking forward. "Dobby understands, Professor Snape. Dobby will be protecting Harry Potter with his very life!"

"See that you do!" Snape ordered, and then strode toward the door. The sooner he finished with Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, the sooner he could return.

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Author's Note:

For those of you who care, based on the number of Dementors per square mile, the Winter Lands is approximately 100,000 square miles in size. That makes it about the same size as Iceland (a third again the size of Ireland). While I don't imagine that the Winter Lands has a very large population (there are no Muggles there after all), that it still a rather impressive chunk of land to be losing control over. Minister Fudge's chances for re-election are looking a bit slim.

A 'protectorate' is typically a sovereign nation that has entered into a treaty with a more powerful nation -- in this case Britain. They give up some of their sovereignty, and in return the stronger nation protects their borders. Sometimes this arrangement is mutual -- the weaker country approaches the stronger country. Sometimes it is forced -- the stronger country simply tells the weaker country 'you're now our protectorate' and there isn't much the weaker country can do about it.

Up next: a rather unexpected plot twists (I just love the Malfoys!).


	39. Chapter 39 Family Honor

Chapter 39 - Family Honor

Severus left his quarters and strode swiftly down the torch lit hall, but as he passed the dark corridor that led to the Slytherin dormitory, Severus realized that his evening was yet again going to take a turn for the worse. Lucius Malfoy was waiting for him, a cold smile on his pale face, his silver-headed cane gripped tightly in one gloved hand.

"Lucius," Severus sighed. "What are you still doing here?"

"My goodness, Severus," Lucius purred. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I'm in no mood for pointless pleasantries tonight, Lucius," Severus snapped.

Lucius just laughed softly. "Really, Severus, I would have thought that marriage to the lovely Mr. Potter would have improved your mood. I see it has not. Perhaps Mr. Potter is not so extraordinary as we have all been led to believe."

"Spare me the innuendos!" Severus growled. "Your son has said more than enough on the subject already."

Lucius just shrugged and sighed rather dramatically. "Yes, Draco can be a bit crude on occasion. He gets it from Narcissa's side of the family, I'm afraid. But I hardly came here to exchange quips about your marriage, Severus. I have business to discuss with you."

"I'm not interest in any business you might wish to discuss," Severus replied, eyes narrowing. "I think my loyalties have been adequately declared."

"Your loyalties," Lucius mused. "Yes, I suppose -- but I do wonder precisely who it is you have sided with, Severus. Dumbledore or Potter?"

"You think there is a difference?"

Lucius just shrugged, tapping his cane against his thigh thoughtfully. "Dumbledore comes with an ideology and an agenda. Potter on the other hand. . ." He smiled suddenly. "That I can almost understand. I had not realized how attractive the boy had become. I can hardly blame you for jumping at such an opportunity."

Severus felt a cold anger seep into his veins at Lucius' words. The blond man looked amused and intrigued -- something Severus did not like at all. "I find it very hard to believe you would share such an interest?"

Lucius laughed at that. "Oh, believe me, Severus, I am not blind. My tastes have always run toward women -- but Mr. Potter has an aura of power about him that I have not seen since. . ."

"Since the Dark Lord?" Severus finished for him, glaring coldly at the man. If he thought to compare Harry to Voldemort he was blind indeed.

"Yes," Lucius agreed. "Since then."

"What's wrong, Lucius?" Severus mocked. "Has the bloom gone off the rose?"

Something strange passed over Lucius' features then, a shadow of unease Severus had never seen in the man. "The Dark Lord has gone mad, Severus."

"He was always mad."

"Not like this," Lucius shook his head. "This is something different, something . . .unspeakable."

Severus stared incredulously at the man. "Are you asking for our protection, Lucius? You wish to join Dumbledore--"

"No!" Lucius snarled, glaring furiously at him. "Join Dumbledore and his pathetic band of Muggle Lovers? He would have us crawling on our knees and kissing the feet of Muggles before this all over!"

"How is that any different from--" Severus began only to be cut off by Lucius.

"Do not start with me, Severus! This is not about me or the Dark Lord. This is about Draco."

"Draco?" Severus stared at the man in surprise. What was he up to now?

"I do not need anyone's protection. I will take whatever steps I must to protect myself. But I do not want my son involved in this madness either. He's already getting strange ideas in his head."

Severus found himself bewildered by the turn this conversation had taken. What could Draco have done to prompt this behavior in Lucius? "What sorts of strange ideas?"

Lucius looked vaguely ill with the thought. "Perversions," he sneered. "I think it must be the Black family blood. They have an impeccable pedigree, but their sexual tastes have always been a bit off. Bellatrix will spread her legs for anyone, while Narcissa seems to have sewn herself shut. And Andromeda," he shuddered in horror. "A Muggle of all things. She would have been better off going the way of Regulus than polluting her blood in such a manner." He smirked suddenly. "Did you ever tell your beloved Order exactly how Regulus died? Or rather what he died beneath?"

Severus found his stomach churning with the memory and he forced his face to remain emotionless. He counted the lie he'd told the Order about Regulus Black's death his one kindness toward Sirius Black who likely would not have been able to handle the truth about his brother.

Regulus, like Bellatrix, had a sexual appetite that grew obscene and out of control, to where even their rather public performances at Dark Revels could not fully sate his desire for the perverse. His life had ended at one such revel when he'd been goaded by Bellatrix to quench the sexual appetite of a mountain troll. The creature had crushed Regulus' head to a pulp as it held the man down on the ground and pounded violently into him. By the time the other Death Eaters had pulled the troll off of him, there was little left that was recognizable of his face.

Even to this day the very memory made Severus sick to his stomach. Lying to the Order about Regulus' change of heart and desire to escape the Death Eaters only to heroically meet his end at the wand of the Dark Lord had been far easier than having to repeat such a story to anyone.

"What does this have to do with Draco?" Severus asked, refusing to rise to Lucius' bait. He rather hoped Draco had not expressed similar tastes.

"Draco will not admit it of course, but he is beginning to desire things he should not have," Lucius explained. "Things that are beneath him. He needs to be taken in hand by someone strong enough to satisfy his desires should they awaken. I have decided to marry him off."

"Why are you telling me this?" Severus asked in surprise.

Lucius frowned at him. "Surely that is obvious. I cannot marry him off to any of my current associates and hope to keep him from the Dark Lord's madness. No, he must go to someone on your side. But the problem of course is all a matter of pedigree. Your side is made up of filthy mongrels, your blood being one of the few exceptions."

Severus had a sudden horrific thought -- there could be only one reason Lucius was bringing this subject up with him -- if he intended to arrange a marriage to someone in Severus' own family. "Oh, Merlin, surely you do not mean Julius?"

Lucius looked outraged at the thought. "The youngest son in a family of five, are you mad? No, my son will go to a blood heir and a head of house, or no one at all."

Relieved Severus just shook his head. "Then why are you speaking of this to me?"

Lucius smirked. "Because there is only one person on your side of suitable blood and position, and now, thanks to your marriage, he is a member of your extended family. I formally request that you present my proposal for the marriage between Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black."

Severus just stared at Lucius in shock, not believing what he had just heard. So much for keeping his emotions from his face -- he knew his stunned disbelief was obvious on his expression. "Are you mad!" he shouted. "Sirius Black?"

Lucius just shrugged. "There is no one else on your side that is suitable."

"Black intends to bond with Remus Lupin," Severus informed him.

"Intends to bond," Lucius replied. "They are not yet bonded. And since by law Remus Lupin is little better than an animal, my proposal takes precedence over any understanding that might exist between them."

"Tell that to the angry wolf that will tear your son apart!"

Lucius' fist closed tightly around the head of his silver cane. "If he tries he'll be put down like the creature he is. In fact if he makes one move toward my son, I will have an Euthanasia Order slapped on him so fast he will not see his next moon rise."

"Lucius, this is madness," Severus protested. "Black will never agree to it."

"Black has no choice but to agree," Lucius insisted. "My proposal is an honorable one and without any legal impediment Black has to accept or forfeit his family name."

"He will choose to forfeit his name."

"He will not," Lucius laughed. "Gryffindor or not, his name means something to him, I think. But beyond that have you forgotten whom the family name would go to? The moment she possessed the title, Bellatrix would use blood magic against him. Sirius would be dead within a week. I think under those circumstances even your pet werewolf would have to urge him to accept -- Gryffindors are like that. And speaking of Gryffindor, Sirius is Draco's cousin. Surely the noble Gryffindor will not abandon his young cousin to the madness of the Dark Lord if it were in his power to save him?"

Severus doubled Black would care about his cousin, but the threat of blood magic was a very real one and a sickening dread filled his heart. "Lucius, do not do this. It will come to no good."

But Lucius just glared at him. "My mind is made up. You will present my offer. I will hear no other arguments against it." And with that he turned and strode swiftly away, heading toward the castle proper and the main doors of Hogwarts.

For a long moment Severus just stood alone in the hallway staring after the man. He felt ill, dread filling his heart. This would not be good -- not at all. Oh, he didn't care so much about the sappy romance between Lupin and Black -- not really anyway -- though what a sad thing it was that Lupin would lose out in the end after so many years of devotion. Pathetic, he decided, not sad.

Oh, hell! Severus sighed. Sad -- it was a sad, sorry business all around. And while a stoic Slytherin might accept the situation and move on, Gryffindors had a tendency to fall apart in the face of such adversity. And Harry . . . Severus shook his head. What would Harry think? He loved his godfather -- loved the blasted werewolf as well. He would not take this well. No one would, which was probably what Lucius had intended.

Guessing by now that Dumbledore and the others had cleared the castle, Severus headed back to the room they had been meeting in. The others had only just arrived, and Severus paused momentarily at the door to glance around at those present. Along with Albus and numerous members of the staff who were no doubt anxious to hear the events of the last few days, Molly and Arthur had remained. Bill, Charlie and Percy had returned with them, leaving the twins behind in Gryffindor Tower. But it was really Remus Lupin Severus was looking at, dreading and perhaps even fearing the task he had ahead of him. He could only hope that the werewolf would take the news well. But he wasn't counting on it.

"Everything alright with Harry?" Albus asked when he noticed Severus standing in the doorway.

Severus nodded and moved into the room, allowing Minerva and Flitwick to secure the room with a privacy charm.

"Well, then," Albus said with a bright twinkle in his eyes. "I'm guessing you and Remus have quite a story to tell us. Especially if the behavior of your brother-in-law toward Harry is anything to go on."

Severus sighed. "You have no idea," He glanced at Remus who just gave him an encouraging smile. Severus began recounting the events of the last few days to those listening.

For the most part they listened in silence, only occasionally asking for clarification. Filius Flitwick asked twice what spell Harry had used to move the stone, and then just sat there with a somewhat stunned look on his face. He questioned him again on the spell the boy had used to seal the Well.

Severus finished up his tale, making certain to include the odd dream that Harry had had the night before the battle. Surprisingly it was the dream that got the most reaction from Albus. The old wizard sat back in his chair, stroking his long beard thoughtfully.

"My goodness!" Flitwick exclaimed when Severus was done with his story. "I have not heard such an extraordinary story in a long time! It would seem we may not be pushing Mr. Potter hard enough in our classes if this is any example of what he is capable of."

"Agreed," Minerva replied. "That's a fine bit of spell work to be sure. I knew the boy was strong, but this is unexpected."

Albus laughed softly at that. "Mr. Potter has a habit of doing the unexpected." He looked thoughtfully at both Remus and Severus. "Do you think he has any idea what the symbolism in the dream may have meant?"

It was Remus who answered. "No, he thought it had something to do with the Ravenclaw mascot."

"Well, regardless, this will certainly cause Harry more stress in the days to come," Albus sighed. "By morning it will be on the front page of every Wizarding paper in the world, and we must watch that Fudge does nothing to disrupt things. He will not take these events lying down. I'm afraid he'll see his chances of re-election slipping away and grow desperate. I am glad Sirius was able to return to the Winter Lands -- it will not be safe here for him for some time I think."

Severs sighed, guessing he could not put the rest of this story off any longer.

"I do have one other bit of news, Albus, which no one is going to like," he began. All eyes turned toward him again. "Lucius Malfoy stopped to speak with me on the way here. It seems as if he has grown concerned with the Dark Lord's behavior of late, and has decided to remove Draco from the Dark Lord's grasp."

Albus looked surprised by this. "He wants us to give Draco asylum?"

"In a manner or speaking," Severus agreed. "He has formally asked me to propose a marriage between his son Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black."

"What!" Remus leaped to his feet, nearly knocking over the large armchair he had been sitting in. "That's ridiculous!"

"Perhaps so," Severus agreed. "But he wants Draco in the hands of the Light, and as far as he's concerned the only person of sufficient pedigree on our side is Black."

"Sirius will refuse!" Remus insisted in outrage, his voice rising in volume. A strange wave of magic moved through the room at his words -- not accidental magic like Harry so often displayed, but something else, something raw and wild as if all the occupants were gripped momentarily by the same burning emotion. Severus could see more than one person taking a step back from the angry werewolf.

"He can't refuse," Severus informed him. "The two of you are not mated. He has no acceptable reason to refuse a marriage of this status. If he does, he'll lose his name and his position as Head of House. The title will go to Bellatrix Lestrange and I guarantee she'll use the Sang Mort spell against him -- and likely against Andromeda too. They'll be dead in a week. He has no choice but to marry Draco."

"No!" Remus shouted and that strange raw energy exploded around them, touching them all. They all saw the exact moment when the rage became too much for the werewolf, and his control snapped, his eyes turning completely yellow, his mouth twisting into a vicious snarl. The impossibly strong man lifted the large chair he had been seated in and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, causing Hagrid and Bill to duck out of the way. Before Remus could take another step, every wand in the room was trained on him. It was Albus' spell that struck him.

Even the werewolf's natural immunity to magic was not enough to overcome the power of Dumbledore's magic. The man collapsed unconscious. A deafening silence settled over the room.

It was Molly who finally rushed to the man's side, carefully turning him over and stroking his hair back from his face. "Oh, Albus," she gasped. "He did not just turn feral! Not Remus! He'll be alright, won't he?"

Albus however looked deeply troubled. "I don't know, Molly. Remus is one of the strongest men I know. I do not think he will let this get the best of him." He frowned at Severus. "Though you could have picked a more opportune time to tell him such news, Severus."

"A more opportune time?" Severus growled, feeling out of sorts and frightened, though he would never admit it. "When would you have suggested, Albus? When I was alone with him so that he could tear me apart without witnesses? Or perhaps I should have allowed Black to tell him, and give the wolf the opportunity to take by force what was being denied him -- ruining even their friendship?"

"But surely Sirius won't really have to marry that spoiled boy!" Molly protested. "Neither he nor Remus deserves that. They've been through enough."

"I don't know," Albus admitted. "Perhaps some other solution may yet present itself. In the mean time I think I had best get Remus down to the infirmary."

"And what about Black?" Severus demanded. "I have no choice but to present Malfoy's proposal."

"It is conceivable that it could take a few days to find out where Sirius is staying," Albus replied thoughtfully. "And it is its conceivable that after learning of his location it may take a few days before you have the opportunity to speak to him in person. After all, such an important matter cannot be conveyed by letter. And certain security precautions would have to be taken considering he is wanted by the Ministry. I think it is safe to wait a while before informing him. Perhaps another solution will present itself by then."

"What will happen to Remus if he has gone feral?" Molly asked, her eyes frightened.

Albus just patted her gently on the shoulder. "Let us worry about that later, when we know more about the state of his mind. In the mean time we had all best try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will no doubt be. . ." He broke off and shook his head. "Unusual to say the least."

-------------------

Author's Note:

Thank you to everyone who has been emailing me and leaving reviews on my story. I appreciate them all -- I'm glad you are all being so understanding about real life. Now for a rather long note . . .

As I said, an interesting story line concerning Draco popped up and I couldn't resist seeing where it would go. It has rather an unexpected conclusion -- but I think you will all enjoy it.

Regarding the canon references in the chapter -- as I said, I started writing this story before book 5 came out. At the time I knew nothing about the Order of the Phoenix or the history of Sirius Black and his family. Also the events that took place in 5th years in this story are drastically different from the events that took place in the actual book. However I see no reason not to incorporate a few things from that book now -- hence the references to Sirius Black's family, including Andromeda's marriage to a Muggle that produced Tonks.

Obviously Regulus met quite a different end in this story than he did in canon -- poor Regulus, but there you have it.

Regarding the question -- is everyone gay? I have to laugh every time I read slash fiction. By the end of the story it often seems like everyone in the world has turned gay -- men and women. I'd say the worse case of this is Gundam Wing fanfic. Not only do all 5 of the pilots in that story turn out to be gay but so do ALL of the bad guys. It's rather amusing. HP fanfiction is equally susceptible to this oddity -- despite that fact that in reality typically only about 10 percent of a society tends to be homosexual. So now I not only have Harry, Severus, Sirius, and Remus in gay relationships, I'm going to include Draco (and someone else -- most of you have figured out who by now) as well. Julius, too, if you count him. That's a lot of gay people.

But I have a good explanation for this -- if you care to listen. If not, move on to the next chapter.

In the Wizarding Society I've set up, there seems to be little distinction between Gay, Straight, or Other. They don't care. I read a study that once said that 10 percent of our population is complete gay, 10 percent is completely straight, and the remaining 80 percent is bisexual with most leaning toward straight. As far as that 80 percent in the middle are concerned they are all capable of being attracted to their own sex, but most choose to ignore it save in extreme or unusual circumstances.

Now if you carried that statistic into a world where there is literally no stigma at all on your sexual orientation, and there is no penalty (such as a legal impediment to marriage or inheritance) based on sexual preferences, then I think that the 80 percent in the middle would be a great deal more flexible than what we're used to.

Incidentally I have figured out a solution to the 'heir' problem. No, I am not going to include male-pregnancy -- I went over this before (it doesn't fit into this story). But I did come up with a really interesting alternative. Without this alternative there would be no way on earth Lucius Malfoy would marry his only heir off to a man. And, yes, I will explain how a wanted criminal can still be involved in an 'honorable' marriage.

As for the Sang Mort -- I'll explain that a bit more as well. The Head of House of a family has certain rights and privileges, as well as certain power over their family. We've already seen this with Severus controlling his family's finances. It is also a form of this blood magic he used to put the chastity belt on Julius. Sang Mort is the dark extreme.

As for Lucius Malfoy -- what side is he on? Lucius Malfoy is on his own side -- always has been, always will be. At the moment he is caught between a rock and hard place -- and is only just beginning to realize it. Reality will be spelled out to him very clearly before all is said and done.

BTW -- there's some action coming up in the next few chapters of the 'romantic' type. Finally, huh? It just takes a rather unexpected turn. I'm still working on the next chapters so I'll get them up as soon as I can.


	40. Chapter 40 The Madness of the Wolf

Chapter 40 -- The Madness of the Wolf

Albus took Remus to the infirmary, leaving the rest of them to make their ways to their prospective homes. Severus was gratefully to return to the dungeons, anxious to end the day and put it behind him. As it was he didn't look forward to telling Harry about Remus the following morning, but Merlin willing he could get a good nights sleep before then.

Dobby was waiting in his main sitting room, bouncing up and down on the couch and singing softly to himself. He leaped off the couch when he saw Severus entered the room.

"Dobby did exactly as Professor Snape asked," he informed the man happily. "Dobby put Harry Potter to bed and guarded the door. Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter!"

"Thank you, Dobby," Severus nodded and then dismissed the creature. He headed toward the bedroom, pausing on his way to the bathroom to glance at the bed. Sure enough he could see Harry asleep, an empty vial of his special version of Dreamless Sleep on the nightstand beside him. Satisfied, Severus stripped out of his leathers and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Despite his exhaustion, he felt restless and uneasy, and he couldn't help the feeling of rage that burned through him when he thought about what Lucius had just done. He should have let Lucius inform the werewolf himself -- should have let him risk his own neck by enraging a Dark Creature. To come between a werewolf and his desired mate was madness. Even now he could still feel that strange emotion that had seeped through the room when Lupin had lost control of himself -- it seemed to have settled deep in Severus bones and would not leave him.

Despite the hot shower Severus was still worked up and edgy by the time he left the bathroom. But he knew he had to get some sleep if he was ever going to face the events of tomorrow.

With a tired sigh he climbed into bed beside Harry, taking a moment to gaze down at the young man sleeping peacefully beside him. The candlelight danced lightly over the fine features of his face. Severus drew his gaze down the pale column of the boy's throat -- several buttons of his top were undone, and Severus could see the hints of the smooth planes of his chest.

The boy shifted in his sleep and his shirt slipping open more, uncovering one rosy nipple. Severus' breath caught in his throat, that uneasy heat in his chest moving lower and awakening a sudden painful desire inside of him. Without conscious thought he reached out to touch what lay before him, letting his fingers lightly graze over the soft skin at the base of Harry's throat before moving downward and brushing gently over the raised nipple. He felt the skin harden in reaction to his touch, pebbling beneath his fingertips. Severus' body was suddenly aching with need, his cock hard and heavy.

He could taste, he told himself silently. The boy had taken his potion -- if he were carefully he would not wake. He could taste his skin, perhaps even taste the soft curve of his lips and the boy would be none the wiser. Or perhaps if he was very careful, used a whispered spell, he might uncover more of his skin and see what delights had been hidden from him. Perhaps he could even uncover all of his skin -- touch him, taste him.

And if the boy woke -- Severus could make him want it. He'd be sleepy and confused, easy to seduce, hungry for affection. Severus could make him want it, make him want him -- and why shouldn't he, after all? The boy was his, legally, morally, magically. Why shouldn't he take what belonged to him -- it was his right. To deny it was madness -- and gods was there anything more wonderful than the scent of Harry's heated skin; he brushed his lips ever so lightly against the boy's bare shoulder.

Just one taste, he promised himself, and let his tongue flick softly against the smooth warm skin. He sighed deeply, breathing in his scent -- so sweet, like sunshine and springtime, and his life had been so cold and bleak alone in those dungeons. And just below the surface he could feel the underlying sense of Harry's magic, thrumming with life, with power, utterly intoxicating.

He moved upward, letting his lips trace gently against the pale skin of Harry's neck, a tender kiss along his jaw line -- the boy was so beautiful, just once he wanted something perfect in his life, something bright and warm. And the boy was his for the taking -- if he waited too long someone else might step forward and take Harry away from him. A fiery flare of rage burned through him at that thought. Even Lucius, who had little interest in men, had wanted Harry, had seen the attraction that drew so many to Harry's side. There was something inside the boy, some primordial spark of life that radiated power; Severus could feel it calling to him the way it called to everyone he met.

No, no one would take him -- he wouldn't allow such a thing to happen. Harry was his -- his to take, his to claim. Softly, carefully, he captured Harry's lips with his own, stealing the kiss that had been denied to him. His body throbbed with need, and he shifted closer to the boy's warmth, desperate for some relief. The slightest pressure parted Harry's lips and he pushed his tongue into that warm mouth, tasting, touching -- and gods, he was sweet! Even asleep and insensate to the world, the boy responded to him, moving closer to his heat, welcoming him into his mouth with a soft moan as Severus stroked his tongue with his own. Severus slid one hand down the boy's body, capturing his hip and pulling him against his hardness, desperate now for release.

The boy was hard, and Severus' heart leaped in his chest. He slipped one leg between Harry's, moaning in pleasure when the boy moved against his leg, grinding his cock into the muscle of his thigh. He deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth with slow, sensual strokes of his tongue.

"Harry," he whispered, bracing himself so that he could move over Harry's body and press him down into the mattress of the bed. He lifted his head, desperate now to see those beautiful green eyes, to see them filled with passion, finally to see Harry look at him the way he wanted, needed to be looked at, like he mattered, like he was needed, like he was loved.

And then he froze in shock when he realized that the boy was still asleep, his eyes closed, mouth parted helplessly as he moaned in some potion-induced dream, utterly unaware of what was happening to him. Severus' mind cleared in an instant as he realized in horror what he was about to do.

He drew swiftly back from the sleeping boy, all but flinging himself out of bed. He took swift stock of himself -- he was as hard as a rock, painfully aroused, and moments ago he'd been ready to take what he wanted regardless of what Harry might have had to say on the matter. Shaken to the core, he retreated swiftly from the bedroom, crossing the sitting room and entering the library. Locking the door behind himself, he lit the fire before sinking down into one of the reading chairs before the large fireplace.

"Merlin!" he whispered to himself. What had he been thinking! To let himself lose control like that -- surely he wasn't that tired? So exhausted that he didn't even realize what he'd been doing until it was almost too late? Perhaps he'd been alone too long -- perhaps his self-imposed celibacy had not been a great idea after all? Granted Harry had some rather strong ideas about marriage and fidelity, but the boy was only sixteen years old. Even if he did one day intend to give himself to Severus -- and truthfully Severus had no real reason beyond the boy's puritanical indignation to believe this -- that didn't mean he was ready to do so now. Likely it would be several years yet before the topic even came up. If after only four months of marriage Severus was already so desperate that he would risk breaking Harry's trust, perhaps remaining celibate was not the best idea?

It had been a long time since Severus had felt the need for a regular bed partner -- but maybe four months of having a tempting young man in his bed was too much for even his control. He'd never been particularly promiscuous, less so as he'd gotten older. But that didn't mean he had not indulged from time to time -- with both men and women. For the most part it was awkward to even consider such things during the school year, and his solitude suited him just fine. But if he was in danger of losing control like he had just nearly done, perhaps it had been too long.

He shook his head violently. It was absolute madness! And complete nonsense! He was tired -- that was all. And the adrenaline of the last few days was merely affecting him awkwardly. All he needed was a good night's sleep and he'd be back to himself by morning.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door, thinking briefly about going back to bed.

With Harry.

It would be warmer, of course, more comfortable. He pictured Harry lying there and felt a shiver of awareness move through him. Would it be so wrong to claim him? Claim him before someone else did. . .

Shaking himself in anger, he shifted in his seat. Okay, going back to bed was a bad idea. He'd sleep here in the library -- wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen asleep in front of the fireplace.

Yes, he told himself, he'd be back to normal by morning.

-------------------------------

Harry woke with a start and glanced at the clock, noting that the hand was pointing firmly to "Time to Get Up". Seeing that Severus was already gone from the room, he shoved back the blankets only to realize that the front of his pajamas were damp and sticky. In that instant his dream came back to him with a vengeance, and despite the fact that he was alone in the room he felt his face turning red with embarrassment. Staggering swiftly out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom to shower, stripping himself out of his pajamas and shoving them into the laundry hamper for the elves to clean. He quickly jumped into the shower to wash away the evidence of his dream.

Good lord, he thought in embarrassment as he wondered if he might have said something in his sleep. He couldn't remember the details of his dream too well, but he remembered enough to know it had been hot and steamy and that the arms he had dreamed were wrapped around him were most definitely male. So was the body he had dreamed he had pressed up against -- a tall, strong well-built male.

He knew it wasn't unusual for him to shout or scream during one of his nightmares -- he'd woken enough people up with his dreams. But had he been just as vocal with this sort of dream as well? Had Severus heard him? Or, oh God, Harry thought in a panic, what if he had grabbed Severus in his sleep, pressed up against him? Was that why Severus had not been in bed still when he had awakened, despite the fact that Severus must have gone to sleep much later than he had? He felt his entire body flush in embarrassment with the thought.

That was one draw back of the potion Severus made for him. True Dreamless Sleep prevented any dreams at all -- which Severus claimed over a long period of time was unhealthy. The potion Severus brewed for him only prevented nightmares. It hadn't occurred to Harry that there was another type of dream he might wish to avoid while he was sleeping beside someone else. As if he didn't have enough to worry about as it was.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of the shower to prepare himself for the day. He wasn't really looking forward to the day ahead of him, guessing he'd spend the day answering the questions of the other Gryffindors about what had happened to him in the Winter Lands.

But at least he was home, he told himself. He was back at Hogwarts, and classes would resume, and he could go back to things that were normal and familiar.

Once dressed, he headed out to the sitting room, looking forward to a good, strong cup of tea to get his morning started. Severus was waiting for him in the other room, and Harry paused in the bedroom doorway to watch the man with some surprise. Severus looked agitated, pacing back and forth in front of the fire as if angry or upset by something. Actually, Harry couldn't recall ever seeing Severus pace like that -- back and forth, like a caged animal, a dark scowl on his face. The Severus Snape he knew stalked swiftly from one place to the next, but he never did something so mindless and pointless as pace. Harry felt his face heating up once again -- what if this was about his dream? Harry thought he would die of embarrassment if Severus mentioned anything about it.

But he couldn't just stand there and stare. Sooner or later he'd have to face the music -- everyone dreamed right? He couldn't be responsible for his dreams -- surely even Severus Snape had embarrassing dreams from time to time?

"Is something wrong, Severus?" he asked, startling the man -- that was a surprise as well. Severus was rarely startled by anything.

Immediately Severus stopped his pacing, and for a moment he just stood there and stared at Harry, before the scowl vanished from his face and he took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. "Sorry, I was just lost in thought," he informed him. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry flushed, his cheeks burning. Was that supposed to be a reference to the dream, or was he imagining all this? Maybe it was just a simple courtesy, nothing more? "Fine," Harry nodded, trying desperately to sound non-chalant. "Is everything. . .did something happen?"

Severus frowned and then nodded tightly. "Yes, actually. Perhaps you best sit down."

An uneasy, panicky feeling settled over Harry's heart at his words, and he guessed suddenly that this had nothing to do with an embarrassing dream. Severus looked too perturbed for that. "Is everyone alright? Did something happen to someone?"

Severus motioned impatiently toward the chair in front of him, obviously intent on getting Harry seated. "Everyone is fine -- no one is hurt." His words were so curt they didn't really ease Harry's mind, but he settled down into the chair anyway, staring uncertainly up at Severus. Severus started pacing again.

"Last night Lucius Malfoy formally asked me to present a marriage proposal between Draco and Sirius Black," Severus began.

"You're kidding?" Harry asked, and then laughed at the very idea. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Severus frowned. "I assure you I am not joking. And neither was he. While I have no idea where his loyalties lie, Lucius has decided that he does not want his son involved with the Death Eaters. He sees Black as the means to get him away from the life awaiting him."

Harry stared at him shock -- the very idea that Lucius Malfoy might actually do something to benefit anyone, even his son, was ludicrous. But that he would pick such an unlikely way was beyond belief. "He doesn't actually think Sirius will accept, does he? Hell, I doubt Draco will agree to it either. The whole idea is silly!"

"You don't seem to understand," Severus replied. "First, Draco has no say in the matter. If his father tells him to marry Sirius Black, then that's what he'll do. It's not his choice. As for your godfather, he doesn't have a choice either. He has no legitimate reason to refuse a marriage of such good standing -- to do so would be dishonorable."

"There would be no honor in accepting!" Harry insisted. "He loves Remus!"

"Remus is a werewolf."

Harry leaped to his feet. "I know that! What does that have to do with anything?"

Severus tugged somewhat angrily at a lock of his hair as if unnaturally agitated by something. "You don't seem to understand what I'm saying. Remus is a werewolf -- he has no legal claim to Black. They are not mated. If the damned wolf hadn't been so bloody puritanical, and made Black wait, they wouldn't have this problem. But in the real world an honorable marriage offer from the Malfoy family trumps true love."

Harry paled at his words and then found himself flushing in embarrassment as he realized what Severus had implied about making Sirius wait. He rather felt like he had been sucker-punched. "That's not fair," he protested.

"Life is not fair," Severus snapped.

"Sirius will never marry Malfoy!" Harry insisted. "I don't care if it's dishonorable or not!"

"Then he will die," Severus replied coldly. "And somehow I don't think even the wolf will want that."

"Die!" Harry exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

Severus dragged his fingers through his hair, which was looking decidedly wild this morning as he had not tied it back as he usually did. "If he refuses the marriage, Lucius Malfoy will go straight to the Ministry and lodge a complaint with the Department of Blood Line Inheritance. Your godfather will lose his family name and his position as Head of House -- a title that will pass immediately to Bellatrix Lestrange. Once she has been named the Head of House, she will use an ancient form of blood magic called the Sang Mort to kill Sirius from a distance. While she's at it she will also likely kill any member of the House of Black that she thinks has not lived up to the name. And before you suggest that Sirius do the same thing to her before this takes place, the Sang Mort is a very dark form of magic and taints the soul irrevocably. There are only a handful of people in the world capable of that kind of magic, and Bellatrix is unfortunately one of them."

"I wasn't going to suggest such a thing!" Harry protested in horror.

"Of course not," Severus smirked coldly at him. "A Gryffindor would never do such a thing, would they?"

"You're in a very foul mood today!" Harry shouted at him, not understanding what was happening here. Why was Severus being so nasty to him? He hadn't behaved like this in months.

Severus grew still for a moment, staring at Harry in surprise. Finally he just sighed and shook his head. "You're right, I am," he agreed. "I'm sorry. I not myself today."

Somewhat mollified Harry turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "I don't understand how this can happen though. I mean how can this be an honorable proposal -- if nothing else has everyone forgotten that Sirius is still a wanted criminal? How can Malfoy marry a wanted criminal and have anyone think it is an honorable marriage?"

"Black's status as a criminal does nothing to change his position as the Head of the House of Black, any more than it prevents the Lestranges or the Averys or the MacNairs from voting in the election despite the fact that they are all known Death Eaters. Until they are dead and their titles have passed on to their heirs, they are still the Heads of very powerful Houses -- their rights and privileges are guaranteed by magic, not legal status or morality. Haven't you wondered how Sirius still has access to all his family vaults despite the fact that he is on the run from the Ministry?"

Truthfully, Harry had wondered that -- how had Sirius managed to buy him such expensive brooms over the years if he could not show his face in public? How was he able to get gold from his vaults in Gringotts?

"The Ministry has the right to arrest him, imprison him, and even execute him -- but until he does something that violates the honor of the House of Black, they can not remove his claim to his title, land or property. The laws of bloodline magic are some of the oldest that exist -- the Ministry can do nothing against them."

"And being on the lamb from the law does not violate the honor of the House of Black?" Harry asked doubtfully.

Severus laughed humorously at that. "The House of Black is a Dark House -- casting the Unforgivables does not violate the honor of the House of Black."

"Sirius isn't dark!"

"That doesn't matter," Severus insisted and Harry shivered uncomfortably, hating the reminder of the house his godfather came from.

"So you're saying he has to marry Draco, because Remus has no legal claim over him?" Harry clarified.

"Correct."

"But what if they were bonded now -- or mated -- or whatever you call it? That would be an acceptable claim, right?" Harry suggested.

"No," Severus insisted. "If they do it after the fact that would be the same as refusing -- Black would lose his name."

"No," Harry shook his head. "This can't happen. There has to be something. . . " He stopped suddenly, something Remus had told him echoing through his mind. _'We know that for every soul that exist in the world there is a soul mate for it. If these two souls somehow miraculous manage to find each other in life, we know that we cannot pull them apart. To do so causes chaos. It can bring about great pain and mischief which ultimately diminishes our society_.'

"The Marriage Stone!" he exclaimed. "We can use the Marriage Stone! The Marriage Stone would certainly trump a Malfoy proposal!"

Severus stared at him in disbelief, looking more agitated again. "What are you blathering on about?"

"The Marriage Stone," Harry repeated. "If we use the Marriage Stone to prove that Sirius and Remus belong together, even Malfoy won't be able to argue against it. It will prove that they belong together, that they're already bonded -- before that stupid proposal. It's a magical artifact -- even Malfoy will have to accept its final word on the subject!"

Severus stared at him incredulously. "What on earth makes you think that the Marriage Stone would prove that Lupin and Black belong together? It's just as likely to prove that Lupin's perfect match is Alice Longbottom!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Harry scoffed, ignoring the angry look that flashed across Severus' face in light of his certainty on the subject. "If it can claim that you and I, who have nothing between us, can be soul mates, it will certainly show that Sirius and Remus are. Remus and Sirius are perfect for--"

Harry yelped in shock as a strong hand suddenly closed around one arm, yanking him violently against Severus' body. He found himself stunned as he stared at the rage on Severus' face, the man's eyes burning as if lit with some inner fire.

"Nothing between us!" Severus snarled. "Nothing! I have protected you with my life, risked myself year after year for your sake. For four months I have provided for you, given you a home, given you anything you wanted. I went to war for you, fought for you! And you dare say there is NOTHING between us!"

As he yelled, his grip on Harry's arms grew tighter and tighter, until Harry was certain they were leaving bruises in his flesh. But more frightening than that was the fact that it wasn't just rage lighting Severus' eyes -- they really were flashing yellow, like Remus Lupin's eyes did when the wolf grew too close to the surface.

"Your eyes are yellow," Harry choked out, afraid even to move. Had Severus been bitten by a werewolf? His heart was pounding in panic.

Severus, glaring down at him, did not react at first. And then something odd passed over his face as Harry's words reached him. His face, which had been flushed with rage, paled suddenly, a look of horror crossing his features as he stared back at him. He released Harry with a violent shove that sent him staggering back.

"Oh god!" Severus whispered, and then rushed toward the door. Ripping open the portrait-door, he vanished into the torch lit hallway beyond.

It took Harry several minutes to calm down enough to even move. His limbs felt shaky and he found himself raising his hands to touch the bruises he was certain were on both his arms. A shiver ran through him.

Shaken and numb he found himself moving into the bedroom and pulling his wardrobe doors open. Dropping down onto his knees he reached for his trunk, pulling it open and rifling through the few items inside it. It took him only a moment to find the folded parchment he'd been looking for. Yanking his wand from his sleeve he tapped the parchment once. "I solemn swear I am up to no good."

The familiar lines and placards of the Marauder's Map appeared on the parchment and Harry swept his eyes over it. There was Severus, moving swiftly toward the Headmaster's Tower. It was still early enough in the morning that very few people were out and about -- most students still inside their various dormitories. For a moment he thought about racing after Severus, finding out what was wrong. And then just as suddenly his dream came back to him, along with the strange sense of heat he had felt running through him when Severus had yanked him hard against his body. His emotions tumbled chaotically around his head, leaving him feeling lost and uncertain where to turn. He needed someone to talk to, and it didn't look like Severus was in any mood to talk to anyone.

Searching for Remus Lupin's name, he was surprised to see it down in the infirmary -- was Remus sick? Had something happened to Sirius -- but there was no sign of Sirius on the map.

"Mischief Managed." He wiped the map clean and shoved it back into his trunk, and then he headed out of the room. He needed to talk to Remus, and the sooner the better. At the moment it felt to him as if the whole world had gone mad.

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Author's Note:

In case you're wondering, yes, there is something wrong with Severus. But hey, at least he's kissed Harry now -- even if Harry was asleep while it was happening. The course of true love never did run smooth.

This chapter has actually gone through a number of rewrites as I was not happy with the way it turned out at first. Hopefully you enjoyed the version I finally produced. And yes, I'll explain in the next chapter what is going on with Severus' behavior.

And just a note to all of you who were panicking -- no, this will not be a Sirius/Draco story. No, I will not be writing a threesome with Draco, Sirius and Remus. My feelings on the subject of Sirius and Remus are very much like Harry's feelings on the subject -- the two of them belong together. So trust me, and just keep reading.


	41. Chapter 41 Feral

Chapter 41 -- Feral

Harry entered the infirmary and moved silently passed Madam Pomfrey's office door, heading into the main ward toward the private room at the far end of the dorm where the Map had shown Remus to be. The door was locked, he noticed, but oddly enough, from the outside. Why on earth would Madam Pomfrey lock Remus in?

Flicking the latch he snuck inside. But as he approached the lone bed in the room, he realized that something was wrong -- it was Remus certainly, but the man's arms and legs were bound down tightly to the frame of the bed with very thick iron manacles, holding him completely immobile. And the bed itself had been modified -- the frame far heavier and thicker than the typical infirmary beds. Even the extraordinary strength of the werewolf would not free him from the bed or those manacles.

Alarmed, Harry moved swiftly toward the bed, intent of freeing the man. The full moon was still a week and a half away -- why would they tie him up? What was going on?

But before he could reach Remus' side, the man himself spoke, his voice low and rough, more like a growl. "Do not touch me, Harry," he warned, stopping Harry in his tracks. He stared in shock as Remus slowly opened his eyes. They were not the warm, gentle amber eyes Harry was used to seeing -- these were the cold, deadly eyes of the wolf.

He'd seen Remus' eyes flash this color once or twice -- understood that they were brief moments when the wolf inside him grew strong and angry. But it had never been more than a quick flash of awareness before the man returned and the eyes regained their natural color. That was not happening now.

"Remus?" he whispered. "Your eyes are yellow." The very same color that Severus' had been. What was wrong? Had they been attacked last night?

"I know, Harry," Remus whispered. "I've gone feral. I've lost control of the wolf. I'm trying to contain it, but I don't know if I can."

"I don't understand?" Harry wanted to reach out and touch the man, soothe some of the pain and rage he saw in his face.

"I told you once Harry that werewolves don't handle jealousy well," he growled softly. "We have calm and we have enraged. There is no in between. And I can't seem to get back to the calm."

"You know about. . ." Harry began, only to break off when Remus suddenly tensed and began fighting against the bonds around him. But the fit only lasted a moment and Harry suspected he was exhausted.

"Yes," Remus said softly. "I know about the marriage proposal."

"Remus, Sirius will never marry Draco," Harry insisted. "You know that!"

"He will die if he does not," Remus told him looking momentarily heart broken. And then his face twisted into a vicious snarl. "And I will kill the Malfoy family if I get loose!"

"Remus!" Harry cried. "You're not a killer! Control yourself!"

Again Remus fought against the bonds before collapsing once more. "You shouldn't be here, Harry," he told him weakly. "It's not safe."

"You won't hurt me," he said with conviction.

"It's dangerous to be around a feral werewolf," Remus whispered. "Our mood can infect those around us. I cannot stay here. I'm no longer safe. I can't remain around people. I can't be trusted."

"Slytherin's potion will cure you," Harry reminded him hopefully.

For a moment Remus looked confused as if he had forgotten about the potion -- Remus who prided himself on his intellect and knowledge. "The potion, yes, the potion might cure me, might push the madness back."

"It will be alright, Remus," Harry agreed.

"Sirius will be married by then," Remus said then, a hopelessness filling his eyes. "Will you tell him I'm sorry, Harry?" he begged. "Will you tell him I'm sorry I waited so long?"

"You'll speak to him yourself, Remus!" Harry said in a panic. "And he won't be married! We'll find some way around this! You'll see Remus! It will work out. It has to."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey's voice caught Harry by surprise and he whirled around. The Medi-witch stood just outside the opened door to Remus' private room. She had her wand out. "Come out of there at once! How did you sneak passed me?" Oddly enough she made no attempt to approach them, remaining just outside the doorway.

"I just wanted to see Remus," Harry explained.

She motioned him toward her, looking both frantic and angry. "Come away from there at once! You shouldn't be here! Step away from him!"

Harry frowned, and looked back at Remus. The man was glaring across the room at Madam Pomfrey, his yellow eyes gleaming dangerously in the morning sunlight that seeped in through the tall narrow window along the outer stone wall. There was a low growl emanating from his throat.

"Remus?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Remus flicked his gaze toward Harry, seeming to be struggling with emotion. "She's right, Harry," he growled. "You shouldn't be here. It isn't safe."

But Harry shook his head. Severus was acting oddly, Sirius was gone, the Ministry had gone mad, nothing made sense any more. He wasn't going to just walk away and abandon Remus. He grabbed a chair that was leaning against the wall, and slammed it down loudly against the stone floor next to Remus' bed. Then he planted himself stubbornly in the seat, folding his arms. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated. "I'm not leaving you here all chained up like this. It isn't right!"

Madam Pomfrey huffed in irritation and stormed angrily back toward her office.

------------------------

It was blind panic that drove Severus through the castle and up toward the Headmaster's tower. He had attacked Harry -- nearly hurt him, or worse. Amid the rage that had overcome him had been a very strong dose of lust as well. Whatever madness had gripped him last night, had not dissipated apparently. Not if he was still feeling this out of control.

And what about Harry's words -- that his eyes had turned yellow? A trick of the light surely -- but what if it had not been? What if it had been something magical -- something dangerous and he really was a true threat to those around him? Right now he felt so out of control he wasn't certain what he was capable of doing.

He reached the gargoyle and snarled out the password, leaping onto the spinning staircase and riding it to the top of the tower. The door at the top opened immediately and he strode inside without bothering to wait for an invitation. The Headmaster, seated behind his desk, stood to greet him, frowning when he saw the expression on Severus' face.

"Albus! Something is wrong with me!" Severus shouted and then strode toward the tall window that looked out over the icy Loch far below. But he couldn't stand still, even for such a breath-taking view. He turned immediately and began pacing back and forth across the carpet covering the stone floor.

"Severus," Albus Dumbledore said mildly. "I want you to come sit down and drink this."

"I don't want any damned tea!" Severus shouted. "Something is wrong! I attacked Harry!"

"Is he hurt?" Dumbledore asked immediately.

"What?" Severus turned and glared at him. "No, of course not! I wouldn't hurt Harry. How dare you suggest that I would --"

"You just said--" Dumbledore began.

"He's sixteen, Albus!" Severus cried, whirling about to begin pacing again. "How can I be thinking such things about a sixteen-year-old? He's my student for Salazar's sake!" And then a thought occurred to him and he turned and snarled at Dumbledore, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You made me marry him! This is your fault! I never would have dreamed of touching him if it hadn't been for your STUPID IDEA!"

"Severus Snape!" Dumbledore's voice snapped him out of his rage for a brief moment, shocking him with the force of power behind the words. "Sit down and drink this!" He held out a small glass bottle -- not tea but a potion.

Momentarily under control and shocked at his own behavior, Severus took the bottle from him, opening it and giving it a careful sniff. Calming Draught, he noticed. He quickly downed the potion, feeling it settle the itching rage racing through his blood. He sank gratefully down into one of the cushioned chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk, relief washing through him.

"Albus," Severus asked in shock. "What's wrong with me?"

"Severus," Albus asked very carefully, but his voice brooked no argument. "Is Harry injured or harmed in anyway?"

Horrified Severus looked up at him. "No, of course not!"

"You said you attacked him. Touched him," Albus reminded him.

Severus felt himself flush red with humiliation. "I grabbed his arms, yelled at him. And last night, I . . .I kissed him, but he was asleep. He doesn't even know."

"You kissed him," Albus repeated and then sank down into his seat, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, good grief, Severus. You made it sound like--"

"He's sixteen years old, Albus!" Severus protested in outrage, surprised Albus wasn't more upset.

"And a month ago I found three fourth-year Hufflepuffs going at it hot and heavy in the Room of Requirement -- together! All three of them! I think Mr. Potter will survive a kiss! Especially one he slept through."

Severus blanched at his words. "Hufflepuffs?"

"It's always the quiet ones," Albus just shook his head.

"Albus, you don't understand," Severus protested.

"I do understand, Severus," Albus said with a tired sigh. "And I am sorry I didn't warn you. I should have realized that this might happen. You're not the only one affected." He held up his left hand, which had a rather nasty series of scratches running down the back of it. "I actually had to break up a cat fight between Minerva and Mrs. Norris last night," he explained. "And Arthur Weasley called me this morning in a panic when he found his wife outside in the back yard blowing up snowdrifts with her wand -- apparently she was convinced the Garden Gnomes were plotting against her."

Severus' eyes widened in realization. "It's Lupin, isn't it? He's doing it? Somehow he's affecting all of us."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"But why! Does he blame me for --"

"Oh, Severus, he's not doing it on purpose!" Albus quickly cut that train of thought off. "He can't help himself. It is just the nature of werewolves. Their moods can affect everyone around them."

"You knew?" Severus asked in disbelief.

"Of course I knew, Severus," Albus replied. "Why do you think I was always so lenient with the Marauders?"

"Are you saying Lupin was feral even back then?"

"Of course not!" Albus snapped in exasperation, slamming one fist down on the surface of his desk in a display of temper. He caught himself then, and sighed, opening up his desk drawer and pulling out a tin of lemon drops. Severus recognized them as the ones he made special for the Headmaster -- laced liberally with Calming Draught. The old man popped one into his mouth before continuing with what he'd been about to say. "Remus Lupin is one of the kindest, most controlled men I have ever met. And no, he was not feral back then."

"But you just said--"

"You, like a lot of people, have a great many misconceptions about werewolves," Albus interrupted again. He rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses, looking for once his age. "Remus is a good man, and what has happened is most unfortunate, and unexpected. And we must find a way to protect him while we try to straighten all this out. I've been reading through the Black Family Cognatus Conscriptus to see if there is a loophole somewhere -- though I rather suspect Lucius Malfoy has already done so as well."

"Albus, I don't understand," Severus said quietly, wanting to know why he was being affected like this. "What is happening? Why is he able to affect us like this?"

"He has always been able to affect you, Severus," Albus smiled. "You just never noticed. You only notice now because the feral transference is so violent -- you feel out of control."

"What do you mean he has always affected me?" Severus asked in alarm.

Albus sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning -- do you think it odd that I allowed a werewolf to go to this school in the first place? Or that I knowingly hired a werewolf to teach our students?"

"We've had this conversation before," Severus replied flatly.

"Well, then would you be surprised to learn that he was not the first werewolf who went to this school, that in fact there was a time in Hogwart's history when werewolves were specifically sought out and brought to this school as both students and teachers?"

Severus fell silent at that, disbelief holding his tongue. Albus would not have said it if it were not true, but it made no sense to him. He had always believed that the risk of having a werewolf around the students was extreme.

"The reality is Severus that the fear of werewolves is a fear passed on to us by Muggles," Albus explained.

"Muggles?" Severus shook his head. "It's the exact opposite, Albus. The purebloods are the ones most outspoken about werewolves. It is always the Muggleborns who are so quick to accept them. Take Harry and Hermione -- they didn't even think twice when they learned Lupin was a werewolf."

But Albus just shook his head. "Severus, logically speaking, why would a wizard really fear a werewolf when they know that as long as they are not feral they are only dangerous for one night out of the month? There was a time in our history when wizards didn't fear werewolves -- they understood it was curse they could not control and everyone took steps to protect themselves against the threat. The only time the werewolves were considered truly dangerous was when they turned feral -- and then they were typically destroyed for the good of society. No, it was the Muggles who really feared werewolves. They didn't understand the nature of the curse, and could not protect themselves against them when the moon was full. It was they who began hunting them indiscriminately, and over the years their fears were spread to our society."

"What does this have to do with having werewolves at Hogwarts?" Severus cut in, wondering where Albus was going with this.

"Severus we graduate between 40 to 50 students every year from Hogwarts," Albus stated. "How many of those students do you suppose go into the Auror Academy every year?"

Severus just shrugged. "Around five or six of them, sometimes more, sometimes less. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Are you aware of the fact that when you were a student every single one of the Gryffindors in Remus Lupin's class, as well as all the Gryffindors in the class above and below him all became Aurors? Every last one of them -- male and female. Along with that so did fifty percent of all the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from those same years. Were it not for the fact that Voldemort recruited heavily from those same classes of Slytherins I am certain their numbers would have been similar. As for the rest of the students both younger and older, of those present at Hogwarts while Remus Lupin was in school -- nearly half of them became Aurors."

Severus found himself thinking back to all the students he knew from the other classes while he had been in school. He knew James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had all gone into the Auror program, though granted it hadn't stopped Pettigrew from betraying the Ministry and his friends. Lily had been in the Auror Program as well up until she had learned she was pregnant with Harry. And Alice and Frank Longbottom had been in the year above them.

"Three classes of students have graduated from Hogwarts since Remus Lupin taught here three years ago," Albus continued. "Of those 124 students, 59 of them have gone into the Auror program. Under normal circumstances we could have only expected about 15 to 20 instead of 59. And the one thing we need now more than anything, considering the difficulties ahead of us, are competent Aurors -- as many as we can get. We lost a lot of Aurors last year in the battle."

"You're saying that Lupin has affected all of them?" Severus asked in disbelief.

Albus nodded. "Just being around a werewolf tends to make people more aggressive. It doesn't change their personalities or make them do anything they don't want to do -- it just gives them the courage or the strength to go after the things they want with more energy and conviction. It is only when a werewolf turns feral that they become a danger to those around them."

"By making them do things they don't want to do?"

But Albus shook his head at that. "By breaking down the inhibitions that control rage, lust, dominance and possessiveness and making you do things you would normally stop yourself from doing. Remus didn't give you the emotions inside of you, he merely amplified them. It's rather like being drunk. And an angry drunk at that."

Not certain he wanted to deal with the idea that the lust that had gripped him last night, or the rage that overwhelmed him this morning had been entirely of his own making, Severus focused on the Hogwart's issue. "Then you're saying you purposely put Lupin here in this school to affect the students?"

"I purposely did it, as did countless other Headmasters before me," Albus agreed -- he motioned to the hundreds of portraits on the walls of the room, all the figures in them watching this conversation intently. Several raised their hands and waved to Severus as if owning up to the task themselves. "One of the main purposes of Hogwarts was to produce Aurors. The four founders didn't just set this school up to educate the elite of society -- they wanted it to be the making of society. To produce the men and women who would govern our world and protect it from all threats. Ironically the purebloods of our society have unknowingly embraced a Muggle fear and werewolves have become outcastes, as have many other creatures in our world that could benefit our society as a whole. Hagrid is a perfect example of this -- magical creatures instinctively trust him, and yet he's looked down upon by wizards because he has giant blood in his veins."

Severus shook his head and stood up, not ready to process all the information right now. "This is all well and fine, Albus, but what do we do right now? How many people has Lupin's feral mood affected? Is the whole school at risk?"

"No, only those who were in the room with him last night or who have come into contact with him since then," Albus assured him. "And of the group last night, I think we're safe enough. Most everyone in that group has a fairly good grip on their darker emotions. Minerva would have been fine if she hadn't transformed into her Animagus form last night and tapped into her animal nature. Most of the other teachers will be fine -- Flitwick and Hagrid have non-human blood in them and will hardly be affected. Madam Sprout seems to have channeled her aggression into her plants -- she's been repotting Greenhouse Five all morning, apparently waging a vicious war on the weeds. Madam Hooch has been flying it off all morning. And while the Weasleys are certainly volatile enough, they all have various healthy outlets to help control their emotions. I'm just grateful the twins were not in the room at the time."

"And what about me?" Severus demanded. "How am I supposed to control myself?"

"The same way you always have, Severus," Albus explained mildly. "You have always been prone to violent rages. And you have always managed to overcome the impulses. Now that you know what is going on, I expect you will handle it as you always have."

Severus glanced at the lemon drops still sitting open on the Headmaster's desk. "You're being affected?"

"Of course," Albus replied. "It is not widely known, but I have a terrible temper myself. Why do you think I asked you to make these special lemon drops for me? You try dealing with not only every issue that comes up in a school full of powerful children but also the insanity that is the Ministry of Magic every day. There are days I'd just like to lock myself in a room and disappear."

Severus smiled wanly at that. "What are we going to do about Lupin?"

Albus tugged thoughtfully on his beard. "I'm hoping that Slytherin's potion will solve the feral problem, and in the meantime I'll continue searching for a way out of this ridiculous marriage. As it is, the alliance between the Black family and the Malfoy family seems set in stone according to the Conscriptus and obviously it hasn't been change since Narcissa married Lucius. I was hoping there was a Degree of Blood clause since Sirius and Draco are first cousins once removed, but apparently that is considered an acceptable degree of separation by both families."

"First cousin marriages are common enough among Purebloods," Severus agreed.

The Headmaster's floo flared suddenly and Madam Pomfrey's head appeared in the fire, interrupting their conversation. "Albus," she called. "You had best come down here as soon as possible. Mr. Potter is here and I can't get him to leave Lupin's room."

Severus turned to glare at the headmaster. "Now what?" he demanded. "Won't Harry be affected as well!"

Albus just sighed sadly at that. "We shall see, Severus. Considering the way Harry was raised by those horrible Muggles, I suspect he's had more practice than any of us controlling his emotions. But we best get down there before he finds it in himself to free Remus from his bonds. I have no doubt Remus would kill Mr. Malfoy if he got loose now."

--------------------------------

Author's Note:

Regarding the Cognatus Conscriptus: More will be explained about this in an upcoming chapter. No, you can't just randomly propose to wizards and force them to marry you so that you can remove the Head of House when they refuse. (Though that would make an interesting plot device in an other story….hmmm…..I'm sensing another cliché about to grip me.)

Regarding Aurors: JKR hasn't really explained much about the workings of the Ministry which is why fan fiction authors have had so much fun randomly creating weird departments that control various parts of the Wizarding World. It is my understanding that the term 'Auror' is a very specialized group of combat wizards -- Dark Wizard Catchers as they are referred to in the books. I suspect they are a sub group of the Ministry of Magic Department of Law Enforcement.

Modern day police forces are broken up into departments like Vice, Major Crimes, Missing Persons, Forensic, Cyber Divisions, Swat, etc. The Wizarding World's Police Force would be similar -- Arthur Weasley for example is never referred to as an 'Auror' but his department regular conducts raids on houses to search for dark artifacts. I would contend that he is some sort of member of the Police Force. As such I see the 'Aurors' as a specialized division much like a Swat Team -- men and women trained specifically for combat situations. So yes it is conceivable that 5 or 6 new members every year would be sufficient to staff such a specialized department if the bulk of the police force came from the rest of the populace that didn't necessarily go to Hogwarts. Seems to me that people like Alrik's men who don't have much magic but are great fighters would be perfect for house raids and public venue security situations if they had an Auror for a squad leader. Keep in mind that the age spread on this group would be pretty extreme. We work on average 40 years, then retire. Assuming they aren't injured (like Moody) an Auror could potentially work between 80-120 years at a job like this.

But in a situation like the War, more Aurors would desperately be needed and the Ministry would no doubt be forced to draft less qualified people from other departments (remember the NEWT qualifications to become an Auror are petty high). The loss of 63 Aurors in the battle the previous year would have been staggering losses -- which makes it all the more understandable why Albus is so anxious to produce more. Remember that Snape has already mentioned that most Wizards just don't have what it takes for DADA.

As for the specific members of Remus Lupin's class -- we know that both James and Sirius were Aurors. We know that Alice and Frank Longbottom were Aurors. We don't know anything about Lily or Peter and the professions they might have gone into. Peter, however, did everything James and Sirius did -- so it makes sense he would have at least tried to become an Auror. And Lily was so spunky, I see no reason why she could not have done the same. Beyond that we know nothing about the other members of the house -- though Kingsley seems about the same age as Sirius and Remus.

Regarding the Black Family: So many people have asked so I thought I'd clear this up -- all this information is canon so you can look it up yourselves. Sirius and Regulus were brothers. Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda are sisters. The 2 men are the first cousins of the 3 women. That means that Sirius is the first cousin once removed (one generation removed) of both Draco and Tonks. If the Black family were to follow normal lines of succession and people started dying off one by one, the line would go like this: Sirius, then Regulus (who is already dead), then Bellatrix, then Narcissa, then Draco, then Andromeda, and then Tonks. And yes, Harry can be named Sirius' heir -- but as you will find out that requires changing the Cognatus Conscriptus (which has not yet been done).

Why has Narcissa been voting in Sirius' name when he still has all his voting rights? Simply put -- she's been doing it somewhat illegally as was implied in a previous chapter -- but in a perfectly acceptable manner. Sirius and Bellatrix have both been in Azkaban all this time -- people locked up in Azkaban, under the influence of the Dementors, are not sane. The last thing they would be thinking about are their voting rights. How wonderful that they have this good and generous sister/cousin who graciously stepped up and performed their duties for them while they were removed from society -- no doubt Fudge and whoever else Narcissa might have voted for were very grateful for her sacrifice (yes, I'm being sarcastic). Sirius would have had to insist on his rights as Head of House to change anything, and while he was in Azkaban he didn't think of such things. Even having been out of Azkaban all this time, he still hasn't thought of it -- which is one of the reasons why the Cognatus Conscriptus has not yet been changed (that's coming up in a later chapter). There is also the added problem that coming forward to vote also means you are setting yourself up to be captured by the Aurors.

By the way I loved the suggestions everyone had about how to get Draco to marry someone else -- some of them were very clever! As you will soon see, someone else already has something rather bizarre up their sleeve.


	42. Chapter 42 Lemon Drops

Chapter 42 - Lemon Drops

Harry didn't have long to wait before both Dumbledore and Severus came rushing into the room where Remus was being kept. While Dumbledore looked relatively calm, Severus did not, his dark eyes glaring daggers at both Remus and Harry. He strode forward, black robes billowing about him, and grabbed Harry's arm as if intent on pulling him bodily from the room. "Come away from there at once!" he shouted, yanking Harry out of his chair.

His words and actions set Remus off again and the man began struggling violently against the bonds holding him down on the bed, his eyes burning with rage as he glared at Severus. "Let him go!" he snarled.

Immediately Severus released Harry's arm, but only so he could draw his wand from his sleeve and point it at the bound werewolf. Harry, though stunned by the situation, leaped in front of Severus' wand, arms held out to stop him from attacking Remus. Behind him, Remus howled in rage, sending chills down Harry's spine.

Once again seeing Harry at the end of his wand, Severus cried out wordlessly in protest, looking both furious and horrified. "You stupid boy!" he shouted and grabbed Harry again.

Harry found himself suddenly spun around, off center and then pulled violently back against Severus, dragged across the room and away from Remus' bed. His back was pressed against Severus' chest, the man's arms wrapped possessively around his body. Harry struggled in desperation when he saw Dumbledore raise his own wand and hit Remus with a stunning charm, instantly stilling the werewolf who had actually managed to make the enormous bed rock on its frame.

Silence settled over the room save for the harsh breathing of both Severus and Harry. Harry felt as if he'd just been in a fight, and Severus was making no effort to release him. The man's arms tightened around him, muscles flexing into unbreakable bonds, the heat of his body making Harry tremble with some unnamed emotion. His heart was racing, and he tried to squirm away, only to find that any movement made Severus hold him tighter.

Dumbledore turned a very stern gaze on both of them. "Severus, release Harry immediately."

Harry found himself holding his breath as he stared into Dumbledore's stern blue eyes, trying to read some explanation for the events that had just taken place. Severus' arms did not loosen; he could feel the man's breath hot against the back of his neck.

"Severus, he is in no danger," Dumbledore insisted. "Calm yourself and let him go. You are frightening him."

Harry heard Severus breath catch in his throat at that, and slowly the arms around him loosened and then dropped away. Harry immediately moved away, taking a hesitant step toward Remus. Dumbledore's firm hand upon his shoulder stopped him.

"Remus is fine, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. "I merely stunned him. We need to leave this room. Our presence here is only aggravating his situation. How did you get through the wards on the door?"

Harry looked up startled. "I didn't notice any wards on the door. Sir, what is wrong with him? What's going on?"

Dumbledore frowned and glanced back at the opened door. Madam Pomfrey was standing just outside the heavy wooden frame. With a curious gleam in his eyes, he pointed his wand at the door and muttered a quiet spell. The doorframe flared brightly revealing dark red warding sigils on the frame that should have prevented Harry from opening the door in the first place.

The old man glanced curiously down at Harry, a rare smirk on his face. "You are full of surprises, my boy," he said with amusement. "But let us retire to Madam Pomfrey's office so that we can discuss this away from Remus. He will throw off that stunning charm soon."

Baffled, Harry allowed Dumbledore to lead him out of the room, only pausing to glance over his shoulder at Remus. But Severus stepped in his way, blocking his line of sight, and he found the eyes of the Potion Master glaring down at him. At least they were their normal color once again, though Harry shivered just the same. What on earth was wrong with everyone?

In moments they were all seated in Madam Pomfrey's office in brightly patterned chairs that the Headmaster transfigured for them. Dumbledore held out a tin of lemon drops, which he passed out to everyone. Harry watched in some surprise as both Severus and Madam Pomfrey popped one of the candies into their mouths. He tried to decline when the tin was offered to him.

"I must insist, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "They are laced with Calming Draught -- which we all need at the moment."

Not certain what was going on, Harry sighed and took the candy. If Severus was willing to eat the sweet, he supposed it was safe enough. The candy, though tart, did have an instant soothing effect on his body. His heart, which had been racing, slowed down.

"Sir, what happened to Remus?" he asked then. "Why is he chained up? The moon won't be full for days yet."

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus explained about the marriage proposal," he stated, and Harry nodded. "Sadly, when Remus heard about it last night, he did not take it well. I'm afraid he turned feral."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's what he said, he said he lost control of the wolf. He said he was trying to regain control but that it wasn't safe for me to be there. But what exactly happened -- what does that mean for him? He'll be all right, won't he? He wouldn't hurt us. I know Remus. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

Dumbledore's eyes widened at Harry's words. "He spoke with you? Said he was trying to regain control?"

Harry nodded, risking a glance at Severus. The man looked distinctly unhappy, glaring now at the floor rather than Harry.

"And did he ask you to free him?" Dumbledore pressed.

"No," Harry shook his head. "He told me to leave the room. That it wasn't safe." Harry realized in retrospect that the smart thing to do probably would have been to do as the man had ordered, but at the time he hadn't truly felt capable of it, desperate to comfort and protect the man who was like a father to him.

The old man leaned back in his chair and sighed thoughtfully, glancing at both Severus and Madam Pomfrey. Harry wasn't certain what to make of the look the three of them exchanged. "Well, that's something at least. He's aware enough to understand what is going on. Remus Lupin was always an extraordinary young man."

"Sir?" Harry cut in.

Dumbledore smiled and reached out to pat Harry on the arm. "Harry, sometimes werewolves lose control of the wolf inside them -- they are in a constant state of conflict as their human nature and animal nature war with one another. When the moon is full, the human is instantly repressed and the wolf takes over. But during the rest of the month, the wolf is still there, still fighting to come out. Sometimes weaker willed werewolves simply give up and allow the wolf to take over completely -- they go feral very soon after being infected. When that happens they become a threat to everyone around them -- you know how physically strong they are. They are usually killed by the Ministry before they can cause too much damage."

"Remus isn't weak willed!" Harry insisted.

"No, of course not," Dumbledore agreed. "Remus is one of the strongest men I know. And he has survived this curse practically untainted for his entire life. But there are some instincts that are nearly impossible for any werewolf to overcome, and last night his control was shattered. That he has managed to control himself enough to speak with you and warn you away is extraordinary. Most werewolves never recover from a feral rage."

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry and he threw a wary glance at Severus. The man, seated in one of the chairs near Madam Pomfrey's desk, was glaring at him again, arms folded across his chest, face stern and imposing.

"Is his mood affecting everyone else?" he asked the Headmaster uncertainly.

"Very good, my boy," Dumbledore nodded. "Everyone who was in the room last night when Remus went feral, as well as anyone who has come into contact with him since then -- such as you -- is affected by his mood. It is called Feral Transference. It will fade soon enough as long as we keep our distance from Remus, but in the mean time we must all take care to control our emotions."

"Keep our distance?" Harry protested. "Are we to just leave Remus locked up in that room then?" He couldn't image just abandoning the man -- but Madam Pomfrey had refused to even step into the room to get him.

But Dumbledore shook his head and pulled thoughtfully on his beard. "No, we can't do that," he agreed. "I'm afraid we have another problem. Lucius is bound to guess that something like this would happen -- he'll no doubt be requesting a formal investigation to make certain Remus is kept under control. When the Ministry finds out he's gone feral they will euthanize him."

Harry leaped to his feet, horror gripping him. "Euthanize him!"

"Harry, calm yourself," Dumbledore ordered. "We must keep our heads if we are to protect him. If Slytherin's potion can cure him, we'll be fine."

Harry turned toward Severus. "Then you must finish the potion! You must brew it immediately."

Severus' eyes flashed, his hands grasping the arms of his chair tightly as he fought down some emotion. "I can't! It takes months to brew, and I still have to run tests to make certain it is safe. I can't just whip up a batch in a couple of minutes."

Deflated, Harry sank back down into his chair. "Then what do we do? Can we send him to the Winter Lands with Sirius? He'll be safe from the Ministry there."

"No, I'm afraid we can't do that," Dumbledore told him. "He must be kept away from everyone. Isolated. And we cannot take the risk of him getting loose. If he doesn't go after the Malfoys to kill them, he'll go after Sirius."

"Remus would never hurt Sirius!" Harry yelled, glaring at all of them for even suggesting such a thing.

"Not intentionally perhaps," Dumbledore told him with a rather pointed stare. For a moment Harry did not understand, and then suddenly it occurred to him just what he was implying, what exactly it was that Remus might want from Sirius. His face burned red with embarrassment.

"Oh," he said softly. "I didn't . . . then what do we do with him? Where do we hide him? We can't risk the Ministry getting a hold of him. And we can't keep him chained to a bed for months while we're waiting for the potion. You can't mean to lock him in a cage. He'll go mad."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, it would be cruel to lock him up." He glanced over at Severus. "I believe you have a vial of the Draught of the Living Death in your potion's stores?"

Startled Severus nodded. "You mean to put him to sleep?"

"Wait a minute!" Harry protested, thinking about what the term 'put to sleep' meant when it came to animals in the Muggle world.

But Dumbledore patted his arm again reassuringly. "The Draught of the Living Death will put him into a magical sleep, Harry. It is nearly indistinguishable from death. It will put him into a state of stasis where he will not need air or food or water. He will not even be aware of the passage of time. We can wake him when Slytherin's potion is ready for him."

"It's a common treatment for severely injured patients," Madam Pomfrey informed Harry. "The Draught of the Living Death is used on trauma patients who are close to dying. It buys Healers the time necessary to heal their bodies before they slip into a true death."

"We'll still need a place to hide him," Severus pointed out. "If Lucius gets a formal inquiry, they'll search Hogwarts. And since Slytherin's potion is yet unproven, they may euthanize him anyway. Or for that matter Fudge may simply take him as hostage to use him as leverage against Harry."

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked. "The Ministry doesn't know where it is, and only a Parselmouth can open the doors. So unless they get Voldemort to help them, he should be safe there."

"An excellent idea!" Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling once again. "We'll have to do it tonight. The hallways are no doubt filled with students right now, and we can't risk taking Remus through them until they are all safely back in their dorms once more. But we dare not delay more than that -- it will only take Lucius a day or two to get the inquiry approved."

"Sir, what about the marriage?" Harry asked worriedly, thinking about the thing that had caused this in the first place. "There must be someway out of it, right?"

"I am looking into that as well, my boy," Dumbledore assured him. "You must have faith. Things tend to work out in the end." The old man stood up then. "Now, you need to get yourself down to the Great Hall for breakfast. You still must go to school after all. But all of you, remember, keep a close watch on your emotions." He poured a small handful of lemon drops into Harry's hand. "Keep those in your pocket, my boy," he suggested. "Now, I best go check the wards on the door, and perhaps put an alarm on the main door to the infirmary since even locking wards do not seem strong enough to keep certain students out."

Harry flushed uncomfortably at the reminder -- he hadn't even noticed the wards on the door, but then he had been rather anxious to get to Remus. He supposed it was possible that his accidental magic had struck again.

He left Madam Pomfrey's office, moving reluctantly toward the exit. When he paused to look back at the room Remus was locked in, Severus grabbed his arm and pulled him bodily out of the infirmary. Once out in the main hall of the castle, Harry jerked his arm out of Severus' grip.

"Will you stop grabbing my arm!" he snapped at the man.

Severus sneered at him, the stern lines of his face as harsh as he'd ever seen them. "Then stop doing things you're not supposed to!"

"I just wanted to see Remus," Harry protested.

"Always the wolf!" Severus snarled. "You're always running to him, never mind the fact that you've known me far longer! But I don't count, do I? Because there's nothing between us!" He threw Harry's words from earlier back in his face, his eyes flashing with rage. "You're nothing but a self-centered, spoiled--"

Harry shoved him hard in the chest, knocking him away from him. "I meant before!" he shouted at him, hurt that Severus would automatically think the worst of him. "I meant there was nothing between us before!"

He could see his words shocked Severus out of the rage he was in, his eyes widening in stunned surprise. But Harry wasn't capable at that moment of having this conversation with him, feeling the hurt of the man's accusation overwhelming him, the tell-tale prick of tears threatening in his eyes. And he refused to cry, refused to ever give in to tears. Instead he turned and ran away, racing down the hallway and escaping into the main corridors of Hogwarts where the students were beginning to make their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry calmed himself as he approached the tall ornate doors to the Hall, pausing to breathe deeply and fight back the emotion welling inside him. Why did Severus have to yell at him like that, think the worst of him? He thought things were different between them now -- the man had been so understanding in the Winter Lands, so careful with him, so supportive. He should have known Harry meant that there was nothing between them before they'd been married -- why would he mean there was nothing now? After everything they'd been through -- after spending Christmas together, didn't he understand? They'd even begun spending evenings together in front of the fireplace, Harry doing homework, Severus grading papers, sometimes just talking -- hadn't any of that mattered? Or was it all just in Harry's mind, delusions from someone who desperately wanted to belong to a real family, however unorthodox it might seem?

He could blame Severus' rage on the feral transference, but not the blithe misunderstanding of his words. Did he mean so little to the man? Was it all just some act, or some gross failing on his part that he truly did not understand how to belong to a family? The reality was that no matter how hard he had tried, no matter how much he had wanted to believe, nothing had ever been good enough for the Dursleys. Why should anything be any different now?

Determine to think of it later when his head was clearer, Harry shoved open one of the doors of the Great Hall, anxious now to talk to Ron and Hermione. He needed the normalcy of his friends -- and maybe Hermione could help him figure out the insanity that was going on with Remus and Sirius too.

Every head in the room turned when Harry entered the Hall, every eye trained on him, and instantly the whispers began, murmurs spreading through the room and rising and falling as Harry made his way toward Gryffindor table. He found himself paling as he walked, feeling the scrutiny that was directed at him. He'd almost forgotten everything else that had happened -- had it only been last night that he'd returned from the Winter Lands? He could see copies of the morning paper being passed around the room -- he'd forgotten about the press.

It was worse than the morning after his marriage -- far worse. Students were standing up just to get a better look at him as he walked across the Hall. Even the few teachers at the head table were staring at him, and through several side doors near the front of the room he could actually see House Elves peaking around the doorways to stare as he walked. Even the ghosts of Hogwarts were not immune to the curiosity. All four of the House ghosts were in attendance, and several Harry had never seen before, all drifting silently about the room with their silvery eyes following his every step.

He spied Ron and Hermione and hurried toward them, breathing a sigh of relief when the two of them moved apart and made room for him on the bench between them. At least he'd have someone friendly on both sides of him.

Sitting quickly down into his seat, he was grateful when Hermione wrapped an arm round his waist and hugged him, Ron patting him on the back. Neville was seated directly across from him and he handed Harry the paper that someone passed down to him.

Steeling himself for the worst, Harry looked down at the front page of the Daily Prophet. There on the page was a moving photo of his entrance into the Great Hall last night, Remus, Severus and Alrik beside him. Slashed in red across the top of the page were the words, "The Boy Who Would Be King".

"Oh, God," he murmured as he scanned the article below. The article outlined, with surprising accuracy, what had happened the night before. And even the private meeting with Minister Fudge was fairly well represented -- Madam Bones had apparently given an interview. Despite the lurid headline, the main article was more news than fiction. It was the dozens of other articles that filled that paper that worried Harry -- every conceivable interpretation possible was speculated about in minute detail. There was even an interview from Minister Fudge insisting that this was nothing more than a protest to the new Wizarding Registration Act that the Muggle government was currently proposing -- that the Winter Lands merely wanted to lodge a protest of the Act and didn't truly mean to withdrawal from their Protectorate status.

"It could have been worse, mate," Ron told him. "At least the main facts were all fairly represented."

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione nodded. "Even the suggestions that you are attempting to overthrow the government don't begin until page five, and those articles will be largely dismissed in favor of the others."

Harry's eyes widened. "Someone suggested that. . . "

"Well," Hermione just shrugged. "That was bound to be expected -- Fudge needs to discredit you if he hopes to get any favor back. But the rest of the candidates are going the opposite route -- I'd say it's safe to state that Fudge's days are number. The really interesting articles are the ones that speculate on the conspiracy that caused the Winter Lands' petitions to be ignored. Other people are beginning to wonder what else has managed to slip through the cracks."

Harry glanced around the room at the other students. All the Gryffindors were leaning toward them, trying to catch what he was saying to his friends. Students from various houses were still staring at him -- even Slytherin house was drawn into the speculation, passing papers up and down the table and craning their necks to get a better look at him. In fact only one student in the entire room seemed utterly oblivious to what was going on -- Draco Malfoy, seated at Slytherin table, was staring somewhat despondently down into his morning plate of waffles, poking at the pastry with his dagger.

Harry frowned, not certain what to make of Draco's behavior. It occurred to him that neither Ron nor Hermione knew about the situation with Sirius and Remus. How much did Draco understand about what had happened? Had he been present when Lucius had made the proposal to Severus -- or had he been kept in the dark about the details?

"Harry?" Hermione's voice caught his attention as he realized he'd momentarily zoned out on his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Harry sighed despondently. "Aren't winter breaks supposed to be relaxing?" he asked. He pulled one of Dumbledore's lemon drops out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

The peaceful moments at the Burrow seemed years ago. Since he'd left the Burrow only days ago, he'd been abducted, attacked by monsters, fought in a war, declared king of a country he hadn't known existed, and then had his family all but torn apart by Lucius Bloody Malfoy. There were days when the idea of returning to the Dursleys and locking himself in the cupboard under the stairs actually seemed rather tempting.

------

Author's Note:

I find writing these bits rather interesting -- so much is going on that Harry literally doesn't know what to think about. He no sooner focuses on one thing when something else explodes in his face.

And let me clear up a misconceptions -- feral werewolves are the ones that are dangerous, the ones that cause excessive aggression in people. Normal werewolves (which is what Remus has been for most of his life) merely give people an extra push to stand up for the courage of their convictions, whether that means becoming an Auror or working for some other department in the Ministry that focuses on improving life for Wizards or other magical creatures. They don't turn everyone violent -- the majority of cops in the world are not violent people. A cop's (or Auror's) first duty isn't to fight, but to protect their community.


	43. Chapter 43 What are Friends For

Chapter 43 What are Friends For

It was lunchtime before Harry had a chance to talk to Ron and Hermione in private. All day long he'd be subjected to whispers and stares -- though thankfully the bizarre innuendos he'd endured after his marriage were missing this time. No one seemed certain what to say to him now, and so resorted simply to gossiping behind his back rather than confronting him directly. The only pleasant moment he'd had all morning was when he'd learned that Charlie had remained behind at Hogwarts to help Hagrid out with a special project down in one of the main stables. Ron and the other Gryffindors had gotten the former student to promise to join them later in the week during Quidditch practice for some extra coaching.

Rather than return to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated into Gryffindor Tower, locking themselves in the sixth-year boys dormitory with some food courtesy of Dobby. Alone and warded behind a privacy charm, Harry sat on Ron's bed and told his two friends about all the things that had occurred in the last few days, finishing with the story about the Malfoy proposal and the trouble with Remus.

Both Ron and Hermione had asked hundreds of questions, wanting to know every detail he could remember about the Winter Lands and the battle he'd fought. And Hermione had been in positive raptures over the description of the Capstone, the Well of Despair and the spells Harry had used to move and seal it. She took copious notes, intent on some new research project that Harry just couldn't bring himself to get excited over.

"What I don't understand is why Sirius has to marry Draco?" Harry complained after the three of them had hashed out the details of the story in greater depth. "Shouldn't he just be able to say no?"

"Not without a good reason, mate," Ron told him.

"How about he just doesn't like the git?" Harry exclaimed. "That seems a perfectly good enough reason!"

"Doesn't work like that," Ron shook his head. "When you're talking about old pureblood families like the Malfoys and the Blacks, things like emotion have nothing to do with a marriage. It's a business arrangement -- like the merging of two companies. There has to be strong legal reasons for the marriage to be denied."

"So what you're saying is that Lucius Malfoy could have insisted that Ginny marry Draco and there would be absolutely nothing she could do about it because your dad would be removed from his position as Head of House?" Harry demanded.

But Ron shook his head in denial. "No, of course not. First my Dad wouldn't care if he lost his position as Head of House. If that happened, Bill would become the Head of House and he'd immediately rescind the position and give it back to my dad. But that wouldn't happen any way. My family doesn't have a Conscriptus, and even if we did, it certainly wouldn't have an open alliance with any family that would force a marriage that any of us didn't want."

"A Conscriptus?" Harry flopped back onto the bed that the three of them were sitting on, and he stared morosely up at the canopy above them. "Why do I get the feeling that this is another one of those Wizarding things I should have read about in 'Hogwarts, A History'?"

"It's not mentioned in 'Hogwarts, A History'," Hermione frowned and Harry glanced curiously over at her. The girl looked a bit vexed and was staring at Ron with an irritated frown. "What is a Conscriptus?"

Ron's eyes widened and he laughed. "You don't know?" Even Harry had to sit up at this. Wasn't often Hermione was lacking a piece of information.

Hermione's glare hardened and she punched Ron in the arm. He was laughing too hard to notice. "Ron!" she protested.

"Fine," Ron grinned. "A Cognatus Conscritpus. It's a magical document. It's typically only found in the older pureblood families. It declares the line of succession as well as lists out alliances with other families and rights and duties the families have to one another."

"Like some sort of legal contract?" Hermione clarified.

Ron nodded. "Our family used to have one a long time ago. That's actually why we have a standing feud with the Malfoys."

"Really?" Harry asked intrigued. He knew that Arthur and Lucius hated each other, but he had always assumed it was because Lucius was a Death Eater.

"My grandfather had a sister named Elenaor who was extremely beautiful," Ron told them conspiratorially, as if enjoying the chance to relay some secret family history. "According to the stories I heard, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's father, fell in love with her and proposed. But if you think Lucius is bad, Abraxas was about ten times worse than him. My great grandfather refused the marriage, which was considered a terrible insult. The Malfoy family had a great deal more money and power than our family, and there were no grounds based on the Conscriptus to refuse such a valuable alliance. My great grandfather was removed as Head of House, and my grandfather became the Head. A new Head of House has a short period of time to break or change the family Conscriptus -- which is exactly what my grandfather did. He broke it entirely, removing our family from the old alliances. The Malfoys never forgave us. It's one of the reasons why they call us 'Blood Traitors'."

"But what exactly is this Conscriptus, and do all the old families have them?" Harry asked uncertainly. "Do the Potters?"

"I doubt it, mate," Ron assured him. "You don't have any tattoos that I've ever seen on you."

"Tattoos?" Harry frowned.

"Yeah, the family crest," Ron replied. "It's usually found on the right shoulder blade of the Head of House. There's another version of it that marks the designated Heir if there is one."

Harry suddenly remembered the rose and serpent tattoo he'd seen on Severus' back that very first night they were married. He wondered if Sirius had something similar on his back.

"I thought the Potters were an old family," Harry stated. "We have all those votes in the election."

"That doesn't mean you have to have a Conscriptus," Ron replied, glancing with mirth at Hermione who was busy writing what he was saying down on her parchment. Harry guessed that in a matter of hours she'd probably have researched the subject to death and would know more about it than all the purebloods in the school put together. "Many of the more progressive families did away with them generations ago. It has nothing to do with the election. The Conscriptus is strictly a mechanism for designating heirs and forming alliances between families. They state who a family member can and cannot marry."

Hermione looked up at that, a curious gleam in her eyes. "The Muggle nobility of Europe used to keep detailed books to determine good marriages -- by keeping track of who was related to whom, it helped prevent marriages between people with too many close blood ties. It sounds like the Conscriptus is a version of that."

Ron nodded. "It's even more important in the Wizarding World since there's often non-human blood mixed into the issue -- some of the oldest pureblood families want to make certain that nothing creeps into their bloodline to taint the family tree."

Hermione snorted in disgust. "Merlin forbid you marry into a family that might have produced a squib or something. Or worse yet a family with a Mudblood somewhere in the background."

"So you're saying that the Malfoys and the Blacks have one of these Conscriptus, and because of it Sirius has to marry Draco?" Harry clarified.

"The Conscriptus would state what sort of marriages would be considered acceptable in both families. Since Lucius married Narcissa Black we can assume that the Conscriptus in both families states that there is nothing to prevent such a marriage, and that the families no doubt have some sort of alliance between them spelled out in the Conscriptus. Unless Sirius changed the Black family Conscriptus when he became heir, then the alliance still stands and he has no legal grounds for refusing the marriage."

"Well, how do we know he didn't change the Conscriptus?" Harry demanded.

"Because he inherited while he was locked up in Azkaban," Ron told him. "You have to go to the Department of Bloodline Inheritance to change a Conscriptus -- something Sirius can't do while he's on the run from the Ministry. He's stuck with whatever nonsense his parents agreed to."

Something occurred to Harry. "Well, how do they expect Sirius to marry anyone while he's on the run?" he exclaimed, thinking he'd found a loophole. "Wouldn't it be illegal for the Malfoys to meet with Sirius for the wedding --they'd be harboring a criminal?"

"No," Hermione sighed, and shrugged when both boys looked at her. "I researched marriage ceremonies right after you got married Harry. I thought the words Dumbledore used were interesting. Draco and Sirius can actually marry by proxy. They don't even have to be in the same country."

"Well, what about the. . ." Harry broke off, uncomfortable about mentioning the subject he was thinking of. There had been so many jokes about his own marriage and wedding night, it still made him red with embarrassment just to think of it. But the one thing he had figured out, and had been brought home repeatedly to him, was that his marriage was considered valid only because everyone believed that Severus had insisted upon consummating it. "You know," he made a vague motion with his hand.

"Sex?" Hermione guessed, only to have Ron exclaim, "Hermione!" in protest of the word.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly! Consummation -- is that a better word?"

"Much!" Ron said in irritation.

"Well, what about that?" Harry pressed.

"Actually, Harry, once Draco and Sirius were married, Draco could no longer be forced to testify against him," Hermione told him. "You can't be forced to testify against your spouse. Draco and Sirius could meet in secret and no one could do anything. Or there's even a more bizarre solution, though I don't think anyone practices it any more, but consummation by proxy is still technically legal."

Harry and Ron both stared at her in horror. "You're kidding?" they said in unison.

But Hermione just shook her head. "There was a time here in Muggle Scotland when the English nobility had the right to bed every new bride on her wedding night before her husband did. Marriage customs have always been rather weird."

Both Ron and Harry exchanged looks of shock, not knowing precisely how to respond to such a thing. It seemed bizarre in the extreme. "Well, who would they get. . .you know for the proxy thing?" Harry asked.

Hermione just shrugged. "Oh, it could be anyone with a close family tie. Actually I hate to say this but either you or Snape would be the most likely candidate."

"Ewww!!!" Harry shrieked and leaped off the bed, moving away from both of them. "Tell me you're joking!"

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I'm not saying either of you would have to agree -- you don't. I'm just saying you would be likely candidates. I also said it isn't commonly practiced any more. The subject is never likely to come up."

"Then why did you mention it?" Ron shuddered.

"You asked!" Hermione exclaimed. "You two are impossible!" She gathered up her notes and books. "It's time for Hagrid's class. Let's go. We can finish this conversation later."

The three of them bundled into their heaviest cloaks and headed downstairs to the common room. As they passed through the warm common room a group of young girls who were sitting off in a corner all started giggling uncontrollably. They were watching Harry intently and when he glanced at them, they all looked away and burst into giggles once again. Harry just sighed and rolled his eyes in irritation. Ron smirked and shrugged and they left the tower behind.

Despite the cold and the heavy blanket of snow on the ground, Care of Magical Creatures was fun that day. Charlie was there, helping Hagrid with his latest offering -- a rather large litters of two-tailed crup puppies. While the class was playing with the puppies, Hagrid explained that they were all forbidden to go into Stable number 4 due to a top-secret project Charlie was helping Hagrid with. Of course not a moment later Hagrid told the entire class that the top-secret project was in fact a baby unicorn that had become separated from its herd. He went on to explain that the centaurs were trying to locate the herd so that they could return the unicorn to its home, and in the mean time it was being well guarded by not only Charlie but also three Thestrals that had been wounded recently in a storm. Apparently Thestrals and Dragons shared similar qualities and required similar healing techniques, which Charlie was well versed in.

Hagrid was quite horrified when he realized he'd just spilled all his secrets and promptly swore the class to absolute silence. Despite the lure of the unicorn, few people wanted to tangle with Thestrals and agreed with the request.

Throughout the class, Harry found himself watching Draco Malfoy. He still seemed despondent, unusually silent despite the fact that he rarely missed the opportunity to mock Hagrid. He pretty much ignored everyone present, only responding when Charlie carried one of the crup puppies over to him and handed it to him. Rather than the expected tantrum Harry would assume the blond would throw, Draco took the puppy and played with it, actually speaking briefly to Charlie though Harry couldn't hear what he said.

After Hagrid's class, they all trekked back up the wooded hillside to the castle where they headed to the Transfiguration classroom. There a surprisingly waspish McGonagall kept them for all of five minutes, before dismissing all of them to the library to work on a research project. They were to research how to transfigure a handful of peanuts into a full set of living room furniture. Harry guessed that McGonagall was one of the people who had been affected by Remus' mood, but he was grateful for the free period.

While the majority of the students grabbed the required research material from the library and then returned to their common rooms, Harry, Ron and Hermione ensconced themselves in a quiet corner of the library at one of the reading tables. Along with the required transfiguration texts, Hermione also grabbed several books on the subjects of Cognatus Conscriptus as well as the 'Complete History of British Capstones', and 'Wingardium Leviosa, the Limitations', and 'Understanding Werewolves'.

Once seated, she threw up a privacy charm so that they could continue their conversation.

"Malfoy sure seemed to be in a bad mood," Ron remarked.

"You think he knows everything that happened?" Harry asked.

But Ron just shrugged at that. "Maybe -- his father might just have told him he was arranging a marriage for him. He may not even know who it is to."

"And Malfoy just has to go along with that?" Harry frowned. "He has no say in this at all?"

Ron shook his head. "I'm sure glad we don't have the same problem in my family. Imagine letting your parents pick out your future spouse -- it would suck not having a choice in the. . ." He paled suddenly as if realizing exactly what he was saying. "Oh, sorry, Harry. I didn't mean. . ."

"It's alright," Harry just waved off his apology as he glanced down at the wedding ring on his right hand. He'd almost stopped noticing it over the last few months, but today it felt unusually cold and heavy. He really wasn't looking forward to returning to his quarters, not with the mood Severus was in. It felt almost like he was right back where they were in September, and he didn't like it. He couldn't help but wonder if some of Severus' bad mood had to do with the dream Harry had experienced the night before -- the whole thing just lent a weight of embarrassment to the situation that he didn't really know how to deal with.

"What about children?" Harry asked suddenly, a new thought occurring to him. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You know an heir -- wouldn't the Malfoy family be interested in continuing the bloodline? Why would they marry Draco to a man if continuing the bloodline were so important to them? Wouldn't that pretty much end any hope of a legitimate heir that way?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks and glanced oddly at Harry. "Harry," Ron began carefully. "Didn't anyone talk to you about . . .you know, that sort of stuff?"

Harry blanched at the question. "Yes," he protested, feeling his face turn red. "I'm not asking about. . . you know . . .sex. . .I'm just asking about an heir. Everyone talked to me, and I don't want to talk about it again!"

Both of them looked surprised, their eyes widening. "Everyone?" they pressed.

Harry rolled his eyes miserably. "Yes, alright, everyone. Bill cornered me the next day, and yes there were shadow puppets involved, and I think I'm scarred for life. And then Charlie drew me aside and I got more details than I ever wanted to hear." He shuddered at the memory. "And then the twins decided to talk to me -- though I'm pretty certain they were just pulling my leg. At least I hope they were -- the bit about House Elves was just gross, and I hope anatomically impossible." Ron and Hermione looked horrified at the thought, though each was trying not to laugh.

Harry just glared at them. "Oh, it gets worse," he assured them. "Percy decided to talk to me too."

"Percy!" Ron gasped in shock.

Harry just nodded and grimaced. "Of course he ended up running screaming from the room before he could get too involved in the discussion. But then your parents decided to sit me down to talk to me."

"Oh my god!" Ron paled in horror. "Together?"

Harry nodded and squirmed in his seat. "It was awful. Your dad kept saying things like 'when a boy and girl like each other', and then your mum would hit him across the back of the head and say 'two boys, no girl', and your dad would get all flustered and confused and then start talking about girls again, only to have your mum hit again. It went on and on like that for about ten minutes before they both just smiled at me and said they hoped I understood everything now."

"Oh, Harry," Ron exclaimed in sympathy. "I'm so sorry! That must have been terrible!"

"It gets worse," Harry sighed.

Ron and Hermione looked stunned. "Worse?''

"Right after that Sirius tried to talk to me," Harry explained. "But somehow he kept getting sidetrack and would start ranting about Snape. And then he told me that he was pretty certain both my parents wanted me to enter a monastery so there was no point in me even thinking about such things. But the really awful part was that somehow word of the subject made its way back here to Hogwarts."

Ron and Hermione looked absolutely flabbergasted at this point. "Who?"

"McGonagall," Harry whispered in horror and both of his friends gasped. "Remember that day we went down into the Chamber? Well after we got back, she called me into her office for a private chat. It took me several minutes to figure out what she was trying to talk to me about -- I don't know who was more horrified. She started using these gigantic words that I didn't understand, and then finally just stammered and stuttered for several minutes. In the end she just handed me a cookie and sent me on my way."

Harry shuddered with the memory. "And then Hagrid bumped into me on the stairs, and slapped me on the back and said, 'I understand you need some talking to about the birds and the bees', and then he proceeded to explain the subject to me in minute detail. If you ever need to know about the mating habits of birds or bees, I'm your man. And I mean ACTUAL birds and bees. It was disgusting."

Both Ron and Hermione were laughing now in disbelief torn between mirth and horror. Harry just sat there and endured their laughter in silence, feeling rather put upon by the world. "Are you done mocking me now?" he demanded when their laughter finally died down.

"Harry, didn't any of them tell you anything useful?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess Charlie's talk was okay," he admitted. "But none of them said anything about children or heirs. They were just trying to explain. . .you know, the mechanics of it all."

Ron snorted in laughter. "Bill's shadow puppets should have cleared that subject up for you."

Harry grimaced with the memory.

Hermione just shook her head, and tugged on one of her brown curls thoughtfully. "Alright, no mechanics," she promised. "Just information. There's a magic spell that allows two wizards or two witches to combine their DNA and implant it in a squib surrogate mother."

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted, scratching at his head. "What's DNA?"

Hermione and Harry frowned at each other. "You know genetic material," Hermione explained, only to receive a blank look from Ron. "Well, what else do you call it? Sperm, ovum, egg, gamete, seed--"

"Hermione!" Ron shrieked and glanced around the library in horror. While there were several other students sitting at the other tables, the privacy charm was still in effect and no one looked up at the sound. His face turned nearly as red as his hair as he leaned forward and whispered to the two of them. "Essence!"

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed in disbelief. "Essence, what a ridiculous term!" She rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry. "They combine their DNA and use a squib surrogate mother to carry the child to term."

Ignoring the fact that Ron was currently banging his head against the table in mortification, Harry asked, "Why a squib? I thought the old pureblood families wouldn't have anything to do with squibs?"

"See, that's the interesting part of all this," Hermione grinned. "No child born to a squib surrogate mother has ever been a squib themselves. They're all born magical. In fact some of the old families insist on squib surrogacy every couple of generation whether they need it or not just to make certain the magical line stays strong. There's been a lot of research done on the subject, and apparently the very process of conception insures the magic in the child."

Harry thought about that for a moment. He hadn't given the subject a lot of thought, but he had always imagined that at some point in his life he would want to have children. He'd assumed, that when he'd married Severus, his chances for that had died -- at least having children of his own. He wasn't opposed to adopting. But now Hermione was saying that not only was it possible, but actually common practice in the Wizarding World for two men to have a child together. He wasn't really certain what to think of the subject now. A child with Severus Snape? It didn't seem likely. Severus had mentioned something about designating an heir eventually, but Harry had assumed he meant one of his nieces or nephews, not a child of his own. He doubted the man would even consider the topic.

"It must be hard to find squib women who would be willing to do something like that?" Harry remarked. Squibs as far as he understood were not well thought of. While the men and women of the Winter Lands did not have a lot of magic, Alrik had made a point of telling him that they were not in fact squibs. In fact the only squibs Harry had ever met were Filch and Mrs. Figg.

"Not as hard has you would think," Hermione corrected him. "Actually this is one place where women have a huge advantage over men. For the most part things in the Wizarding World are pretty equal between the sexes, but in this one thing men are really at a disadvantage, so much so that some parents when they discover their male child is a squib, feed them a permanent gender changing potion and pretend they were female all along."

"Why?" Harry asked in shock, finding the very idea of switching gender rather creepy to imagine.

"The process of carrying a magical child for nine months gives the squib woman a boost of magic," Hermione explained. "After she gives birth, she's no longer a squib. They don't necessarily become powerful, but they have enough magic to perform common spells. Most squib women jump at the chance to be a surrogate mother -- it's a win-win situation all around."

"Can we please stop talking about this now?" Ron begged from where he had his face planted on the table. He sat up and glanced at the clock near the main library door. "It's tea time! Lets go back to the common room and talk about Quidditch." He looked so eager that both Harry and Hermione caved and agreed. Ron snatched up his books and raced off ahead of them.

"Honestly," Hermione said in exasperation as she and Harry gathered up their belongings at a more leisurely pace. "Considering all the children the Weasley family has, you'd think Ron would be more open about discussing these subjects."

Harry grinned at her, knowing that there were some things that the two of them, being Muggle born, would always have in common. "I think it's more the fact that you're a girl and he's been told not to discuss certain subjects in mixed company that's the problem. He's plenty crude around the other guys."

Hermione just shook her head. "We're never getting out of the hand-holding phase, are we?"

Harry laughed, and nudged her with his shoulder as they walked. "Oh, just keep talking about sexy things like DNA and genetic material and he'll be putty in your hands before you know it."

She smirked and nudged him back and the two of them followed the tall redhead back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

--------------

Author's Note:

Yes, I know Harry, Ron and Hermione dropped Care of Magical Creatures in 6th year. I liked the class, so they're still there -- along with the Slytherins.

And for those of you who were confused -- Bill is the oldest of the Weasley children. Charlie is the second born -- the Dragon tamer that winked at Draco.


	44. Chapter 44 To Sleep

Chapter 44 To Sleep

By dinner that evening Harry had almost resigned himself to the stares he was receiving from all his classmates. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd been subjected to the same. And the truth was, unlike previous times, people were actually hesitant to approach him and directly ask him any questions. But there was one phenomenon that he just did not understand -- one that was actually a new experience for him. The giggling!

Throughout the Great Hall there were clusters of girls who were watching him, whispering amongst themselves, and then giggling. It was starting to drive him batty. When a group of Hufflepuffs directly behind him started giggling, he couldn't take it any more. He leaned across the table toward Hermione to get her attention. "What in Merlin's name is the giggling all about?" he whispered. "What's gotten into all of them?"

Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville leaned in to hear Hermione's answer, especially when they noticed that Hermione actually blushed before responding. "Oh, don't worry about it, Harry," she replied rather nonchalantly. "It's just a. . .change of perspective."

"A change of perspective?" Harry repeated, not understanding at all. He looked at the other guys, but they all just shrugged their shoulders, equally baffled.

Hermione sighed and reached into her bag to pull out her copy of the Daily Prophet. She put it down on the table and pointed to the picture on the front page -- it was the same picture that Harry had seen that morning: Harry, Remus, Severus and Alrik walking into the Great Hall.

"What about it?" he demanded, not understanding why the picture could prompt the giggling. It certainly wasn't the most risque picture ever taken of him -- Witch Weekly had printed several pictures of him without his shirt on last year. Apparently someone managed to snap a few photos while he was changing before a Quidditch game.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "It's the leather, Harry."

All five of the guys looked at her as if she'd gone mad. Harry looked down at the picture again, still not understanding.

"Why don't I have any girl-friends?" Hermione moaned to herself. "Look, Harry, most people are used to you looking rather. . .heroic, shall we say. And may I comment that the lack of glasses has gone over really well amongst your adoring public."

"They're giggling because I don't wear glasses any more?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Actually this is less about you and more about Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Ron and Neville exclaimed in one voice. Seamus began choking on the pumpkin juice he'd just swallowed and Dean pounded helpfully on his back.

"Well," Hermione squirmed a bit in her seat. "Look Harry, when you first married Professor Snape everyone was looking at the two of you and thinking what on earth did you see in him. Now, they all think they've figured it out -- they've had a change of perspective."

Still getting nothing but blank looks she pointed again to the picture. "Oh, come on, I mean the Viking is like -- you know, wow! And everyone had a crush on Professor Lupin. But Snape always wears those black billowing teaching robes, and now here he is in leather. And boots. And a sword." Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, a rather predatory smile crossing her face. "I mean I'm not saying he's like handsome or anything. . .I'm just saying he's like. . . you know. . . hot."

"You think Snape is hot?" Ron's blue eyes were filled with disbelief, and no little bit of jealousy. He grabbed the paper to take a closer look at it, Seamus and Dean looking over his shoulder. Neville just looked disturbed.

Harry sat there stunned, his mouth open in shock. "Are you saying that everyone is giggling because they all used to think I married him for his money, and now they all think I married him for his body?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment, and then finally nodded. "Yep," she agreed rather smugly. "Married life does seem to agree with him. He's been looking quite nice lately. I think it's his hair. But the leather, Harry. The leather just sort of put him over the top." She fanned herself as if overheated.

Ron looked very disturbed, and quite worried. He studied Hermione intently, and Harry noticed that Hermione was making no attempt to conceal her appreciation of the picture the other boys were still looking at. "I can wear leather too," Ron mumbled under his breath, but Hermione rather pointedly ignored him.

Harry glanced at the picture again, trying to look at it with an objective eye. Severus did look quite a bit different than he normally did -- more dangerous, if that was to be believed. And the leather really did show off his body to its advantage. He'd known since the first night they were married that those teaching robes hid a lean, firm muscular body. And the way those leather pants clung to his thighs. . .Harry found himself growing warm with the thought.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to him. "Oh, god," he groaned. "If they've been giggling at me all day, what do you suppose they were doing in Snape's classes?"

He could only imagine the mood the man would be in -- particularly after the disastrous morning and the influence of the feral werewolf. He was just grateful he didn't have Potions that day. But unlike the rest of the student body population, he had to face Severus that night -- had to sleep beside him.

He banged his head down on the table. "I hate my life."

----------

After dinner he returned to his rooms, entering them somewhat reluctantly. But he knew the moment he entered that Severus was absent. Relieved that he could once again put off facing the man, he sat down in front of the fireplace to do his homework, but without Ron or Hermione to keep him company, his mind began wandering.

He thought about Remus, still strapped to a bed in the infirmary, and about Sirius who was hopefully safe in the Winter Lands but oblivious to the events that were about to disrupt his life once again. And he thought about Severus and the fight they had that morning. 'I have protected you with my life, risked myself year after year for your sake,' Severus had said to him. Did he truly think Harry was so blind he didn't know all the things he'd done for him? The man had married him, for god's sake, just to keep him safe from the Minister. He wasn't likely to forget that.

'For four months I have provided for you, given you a home, given you anything you wanted.' Severus voice seemed to mock him. He supposed that ultimately he had given Severus nothing in return. The Wizarding World had such defined rules on money and propriety and behavior. For whatever reason, the role Harry seemed destined to play in this marriage denied him the ability to give anything back. He couldn't even pay for his own belongings without violating some old-fashioned sense of honor that Severus possessed.

He'd tried to be good, tried to stay out the man's way as much as possible. A quick glance around the room revealed only a few of his belongings that had snuck their way into Severus' neat living room. He'd thought about putting a couple of pictures on the mantle piece, but had decided that a photo of the Marauders and his mother would probably not be something Severus Snape would appreciate in his home. Beyond that, there was little evidence of his invasion of the dungeon. Sure he kept his broom in the corner of the room by the door most days now, instead tucked neatly away in his trunk. And Hedwig had her own perch near the fire, though she preferred the owlery when she was at Hogwarts. But Harry didn't think he'd imposed too much on the man's life.

And he'd stayed out of his way as much as possible -- at least at first. He'd spent his evenings in Gryffindor Tower, kept his friends out of their quarters. But after a while it had seemed as if Severus enjoyed his company -- or at least did not hate it so much as he once had. Harry had begun spending more and more time with him in the evenings. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe the man was only tolerating him because of the duty he believed he owed his bondmate? Maybe Harry really was the self-centered, spoiled brat that Severus had always accused him of being?

He pulled his feet up onto the couch and wrapped his arms around his legs, unconsciously curling up in a ball as he felt a wave of misery wash over him. He shouldn't care, he told himself. But Sirius was gone, and Remus was going to be locked away, and he felt suddenly very alone. He shouldn't care if Severus was angry with him, or didn't really care about him. He wouldn't have cared one bit a few months ago before all this had happened. The man had never cared about him -- had actively hated him for all the previous years. He'd told him so repeatedly, and Harry had returned the favor. But somehow the very idea of telling Severus now that he hated him was abhorrent to Harry.

Was it only two nights ago he had climbed into bed beside him in the Winter Lands and asked him if he was angry with him -- afraid he would be upset that he'd gotten himself into trouble once again? And Severus had been so kind to him that night -- even his teasing had been kindly meant, easy his mind instead of upsetting him. He didn't want things to go back to the way they had been before.

The fire flared suddenly startling him out of his thoughts. Dumbledore's head appeared in the flame, and Harry sat up expectantly. "There you are, my boy," he said kindly. "Could you bring your invisibility cloak down to the infirmary? We must take care of certain matters at once."

"I'll be right there," Harry promised, and then rushed to the bedroom to get his invisibility cloak from his trunk.

He glanced at the clock as he made his way out of the room. He'd been sitting on the couch for longer than he'd suspected. It was nearly curfew already. The rest of the students would all be safely in their common rooms for the night.

The halls were silent as he headed toward the infirmary, climbing up out of the dungeons and moving away from Slytherin territory. Professor McGonagall was waiting by the infirmary door for him. She smiled grimly as he approached and gave him a light pat on one shoulder as if urging him to keep a stiff upper lip. The two of them entered the main ward and headed toward the private room. Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Severus were waiting by the closed door, none of them making an effort to enter.

"I explained the situation to Remus earlier," Dumbledore informed Harry. "He agreed to take the potion, but I'm afraid you are going to have to administer it to him."

"Me?" Harry asked in surprise.

"He becomes too agitated if anyone else gets near him," Dumbledore explained. "You said he spoke to you this morning, and you were sitting beside him when we entered the room. He seemed calm enough then with just you beside him. I suspect the wolf inside him sees you as family which is why he does not react as violently when you're around."

"What do I do?" Harry asked nervously, looking to Severus who was holding a small glass vial filled with a dark purple liquid. The man did not look happy about the situation but handed the potion over with a somewhat resigned manner.

"It's simple enough," he informed Harry. "Make certain he drinks all of it. Pour it directly into his mouth -- but be careful in case he tries to bite you."

"Bite me?"

"There's no risk of lycanthropic infection," Madam Pomfrey assured him. "He's only contagious when he's in wolf form. But a human bite is a very nasty thing regardless. Keep your fingers well clear of his teeth -- I'd hate to have to spend my evening reattaching your thumb."

"We'll be standing right by the door with our wands at the ready," Dumbledore explained. "You'll be in no danger."

But Harry wasn't worried about himself. He honestly didn't think Remus would hurt him -- he hated the idea that they were about to put the man into a magical slumber and lock him away in the Chamber of Secrets for who knows how long. But he knew this was the safest thing for the man, and like it not, he had to do it.

He handed his invisibility cloak to McGonagall and then nodded to Dumbledore. The man smiled encouragingly at him and then opened the door to the room. Harry stepped inside.

Remus looked exhausted -- that was the first thing Harry noticed as he approached the bed. His eyes were still yellow and cold, but filled now with a frustrated rage and despair that tore at Harry's heart. He could see the redness around the man's wrists where he'd struggled to be free, despite the padding around the iron manacles to protect him. Harry hated the thought that he'd spent the entire day in here fighting to be free -- fighting to get back to Sirius. And he hated the thought of telling his godfather about this -- this would kill Sirius.

"Harry," Remus whispered, and his voice was hoarse, barely audible. Harry imagined he had screamed himself raw. "Tell him I'm sorry," he begged. "Tell him I'm sorry, Harry."

"It will be okay, Remus," Harry promised him. "It will be okay. You're just going to go to sleep for a little while. And when you wake up we'll have the potion that will cure you. And Sirius will be here with you."

But whatever hope the man might have still had that morning seemed to be gone, for nothing registered in his eyes. "Tell him I'm sorry," he whispered again.

Harry promised him and pulled out the stopper on the Draught of the Living Death. For a moment Remus fought again, struggling violently against the bonds that held him down, and Harry held his breath as he waited for him to stop. Eventually he collapsed with exhaustion, and Harry carefully held the potion out to him. "You have to drink, Remus," he told him. "Please, just drink."

And whether Remus understood or not, or was just desperately thirsty, the man parted his lips and allowed Harry to pour the potion into his mouth. He swallowed convulsively, and a violent shudder moved through his body. He grew still, his body growing calm. He stared tiredly up at Harry, his eyes barely human.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached out to touch the man's hair, stroking the honey-colored locks back from his tired face. There was so much gray streaked through the hair despite his young age. Remus sighed, and his eyes slowly closed. He let out a long slow breath, and then stopped moving.

It took Harry a moment to realize that the man was no longer breathing, and a wave of terror crashed over him. "Remus!" he cried in horror. The potion was supposed to put him to sleep, not kill him! But he wasn't breathing, wasn't moving at all.

"He's not breathing!" He turned in a panic, looking for help, and felt warm hands on his shoulders bracing him even as Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore moved into the room.

"It's alright, Harry," a quiet voice reassured him. Severus was there, holding him steady, speaking softly into his ear and calming him. "The Draught freezes everything, remember. It stops his heart and his breath. He's only asleep, not dead."

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Remus' still body and then nodded to everyone in the room. "He's fine," she announced, and Harry sagged in relief, feeling Severus' hands on his shoulders squeezing him comfortingly.

With a wave of his wand Dumbledore had freed Remus from the bonds that held him, and Madam Pomfrey took a moment to tend to the raw abrasions on his skin where he'd fought against the manacles. And then Dumbledore cast a mobilicorpus spell and floated Remus into the air, moving him toward the door. Harry shuddered, remembering the last time he'd cast that spell -- he'd been directing a line of bloody corpses back to Bifrost Hall. The comparison did nothing to comfort him. Remus was not dead, he remind himself.

Once out in the main infirmary ward, Professor McGonagall draped Harry's invisibility cloak over Remus' prone figure, hiding him from anyone who still might be wandering the halls of the castle.

"You ready to take us back down into the Chamber, my boy?" Dumbledore asked Harry.

Harry nodded, though he was feeling far less confident about this than he had earlier. While he knew this was the safest thing for Remus, he no longer liked the idea of the man being left alone down there in the Chamber. He couldn't help but remember what had been written on the walls in blood back in his second year -- "her skeleton shall lie in the chamber forever".

They all moved silently through the darkened halls of Hogwarts, the portraits on the walls all suspiciously empty of their occupants. Harry led them to the second floor girls' lavatory and once inside hissed the command to the sink to open the Chamber entrance. Neither McGonagall nor Pomfrey had been with them the last time they had gone down to the chamber and both woman gasped in shock as the sink opened up to reveal the entrance in the ground. Harry thought he saw Pomfrey making a warding sign against evil at the sound of the Parseltongue command.

Rather than risk sliding down the tunnel, Dumbledore and McGonagall levitated them all down into the main cavern. Then under the light of several lumos spells, they headed through the cave and toward the snake cover doors that led into the main chamber. It was only a few days ago that they'd been here with Remus, Sirius, Ron and Hermione -- but it seemed a lifetime ago. And this time the trip had a far more somber feeling to it. Harry was only grateful that the enormous corpse of the Basilisk was now gone --courtesy of Severus. The giant snake was stored away for potions in one of Severus' private labs.

They decided to take Remus into the small private library where they'd found all the books. The shelves were now empty -- Remus, Severus and Dumbledore had cleaned the place out. But the room was still secure, and the preservation charms were still in effect, keeping the dust and decay away.

Once there, McGonagall transfigured one of Dumbledore's lemon drops into a large bed, and they gently placed Remus on top of it, removing the invisibility cloak. Madam Pomfrey checked him over once again, pronouncing him fine.

"What happens when the moon is full?" Harry asked. "Will he still transform like this?"

"No," Severus informed him. "Nothing disturbs the Living Death until the antidote is administered."

"We can check on him after the full moon to make certain everything is fine," Madam Pomfrey told Harry. "He'll be fine. He isn't the first werewolf to be given the Draught of the Living Death."

"Can we leave a light for him?" Harry asked Dumbledore, hating the thought of sealing him up here in the darkness.

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, and waved his wand. A small table with a lantern on it appeared beside the bed -- the golden orb inside the lantern emitted a soft warm light. Dumbledore also cast a warming charm over the room, staving off the winter chill Harry could feel seeping into his bones. "He'll be fine, Harry."

Harry nodded and moved forward, taking hold of one of Remus' hands. There was no movement beneath his skin, and the stillness felt unnatural. "We'll be back, Remus," he whispered softly, squeezing his hand gently. But Remus gave no response, oblivious to the world around him.

The return to the castle was done in silence, all of them lost in thought. When Harry finally sealed the door to the chamber he couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before they would be able to return to rescue the werewolf. Hopefully when that day came they would have the cure for Lycanthropy and Sirius would be by his side.

They all parted ways once back in the second floor corridor, and Harry and Severus made their way silently back down into the dungeons. Once in their rooms, Severus built up the fire with a wave of his wand and then retreated momentarily to his lab to grab a potion. Harry sank down into his chair in front of the fire, feeling lost and out of sorts.

"Do you need another one of these?" Severus asked as he returned to the room. He held up a small vial -- Harry recognized the pale blue of a Calming Draught in the glass bottle. He shook his head.

"I'm fine," he assured the man, and watched as he downed the potion instead. "You're still angry?" he guessed. Despite this, Severus had been nice to him earlier, calming him when he'd panicked over Remus. It gave him some hope that maybe things would go back to normal.

Severus frowned at the question. "Not angry exactly," he replied. "Just. . .out of sorts, I suppose. Now that Lupin is asleep and away from us, hopefully things will go back to normal." He sank down in the chair across from Harry. Harry, gazing into the dancing flames of the fire, could feel the man studying his face. "Are you alright?"

Despite the warmth of the fire, Harry shivered. But he forced himself to nod in answer.

Severus said nothing for a long while, but his gaze never left Harry's face. "What did you mean this morning?" the man finally asked, his voice low and smooth. "When you said there was nothing between us before?"

Harry ran his hands through his messy hair, and then pulled his feet back up onto the seat of the chair, curling up once more for warmth and comfort. "It was stupid," he replied, not looking at the man.

He felt raw inside, his emotions chaotic. Perhaps he should have taken a Calming Draught after all. Nonetheless, he felt compelled to answer Severus. "I know you've got this idea in your head about how you are supposed to treat me -- or not me specifically, but your bondmate, no matter who that might be. It's probably written down somewhere in an etiquette book. You have these ideas about what you can and cannot say to me. Hell, you apologized to me the first night we were married." Harry smiled faintly with the memory. "I guess I thought it mattered that it was me. You were right; I am self-centered. I said what I said -- that there was nothing between us -- because I thought you would know that I meant before, before all this happened, before we were married."

He looked up then, staring into Severus' dark eyes, and didn't know what to make of the expression on the man's face. He gave nothing away, keeping all his emotions so carefully in check so that Harry didn't know if anything he was saying was making any sense at all. Probably not, but he forged onward anyway. "I was wrong," Harry said. "Because you didn't know -- because what mattered to you was one thing, and what mattered to me was something else, something selfish. But I want you to know that I do know what you've done for me -- all the times you've risked your life, all the things you given me, all the sacrifices you made. I do know."

Harry felt it was important that Severus understand and he found himself grasping for words to express what he meant. "Sirius asked me to come live with him," he told him, remembering that very first night he had met Sirius back in third year. Severus stirred at the reminder, and Harry forged on quickly before he could say something disparaging about his godfather, because this wasn't about Sirius at all. "He wanted to give me a home, but he was never allowed to, things never worked out. Ironic as it may seem, you are the only person who as ever given me a real home, and that means a lot to me. And I'm sorry if I made you angry."

Severus took a long, deep breath, and then leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms across his thighs as he peered intently at Harry as if trying to figure out what precisely he was saying. He said nothing for a long while, and his expression was still unreadable, but it seemed as if he was searching for something in Harry's eyes. At this point Harry felt so emotionally exhausted, he didn't know what to think any more.

"What was it?" Severus asked quietly. "The selfish thing you said mattered to you?"

Harry sighed heavily, feeling strangely empty inside. "That it mattered that it was me. That you did all this because it was me -- not your duty, or because I was the Boy-Who-Lived, or your bondmate, but because I was me, just me, just Harry."

Something passed over Severus' features, some hard emotion that flickered to life in the man's eyes. "Harry," he said softly, and his voice was like warm velvet. "Duty was the last thing on my mind when I went into the Winter Lands after you."

It wasn't exactly a declaration of friendship, but it was something -- something more than Harry had before. Something to hold onto. A spark of warmth, bright and hopeful, filled the emptiness inside Harry, and he gave the man a tentative smile, uncertain how to respond. When Severus returned his smile, Harry grinned, and leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting back to the fire. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders -- even if only temporary. Okay, maybe he wasn't alone after all. Maybe he never had been.

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Author's Note:

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm glad so many of you enjoyed the 'talk' Harry received from everyone. It was nice being able to write a rather quiet chapter after all the momentous things in all the previous chapters. Sometimes you just have to sit back and see what the reactions of the rest of the world are. Harry needed a moment to catch his breath -- and that's where Ron and Hermione are invaluable.

My solution to the Draco issue will be in the next chapter.


	45. Chapter 45 Dragon Taming

Chapter 45 - Dragon Taming

Severus sat by the fire long after Harry had gone to bed. He was glad he had thought to take the Calming Draught before talking to the boy, for even with it, the emotions churning around inside him were chaotic. He could still feel a good sense of rage -- but it was no longer directed at the young man he seemed fated to share his life with. No, now it was directed once more firmly at the Dursleys who seemed to have hurt the boy so deeply he felt that wishing for some real bond with his family was selfish.

A selfish thing, Harry had called it, wanting it to matter that any kindness directed toward him was because of who he was rather than the role he was forced to play in life. Severus regretted deeply now the words he had said that morning, and how grossly he had misunderstood. If the smile Harry had bestowed upon him was any indication, he had forgiven him readily, but surely the wound must still be there and Severus did not know how to mend it.

Merlin the boy was confusing! He baffled Severus at every turn. But Severus felt some hope in his heart; it was obvious that the young man had feelings for him. It was just as obvious that he didn't have a clue what those feelings might entail. Neither did Severus for that matter -- save to see that Harry trusted him, was grateful to him, and wanted to matter to him, wanted to be part of a family. And when Harry had smiled at him, Severus had felt his heart turn over.

One day, he told himself, he wanted to meet the Dursleys face to face, and he wanted to see all three of them squirm in shame for what they had done. He wanted to see them regret every selfish and cruel thing they had ever done to their nephew. One day, he promised himself, he would extract some sort of petty revenge that went beyond the spells Albus had cursed them with.

Harry had gone to bed shortly after their conversation without too much prompting, and Severus guessed he was now sound asleep under the influence of the Dreamless Sleep Draught. He wanted to go to bed himself, wanted to put this entire day behind him, but he was wary of doing so. Rage at the Dursleys wasn't the only emotion plaguing him -- the desire to touch Harry did not seem to be fading, despite the Calming Draught.

He'd grabbed Harry that morning when he'd seen him standing so close to the feral werewolf -- it had been all he could do to let him go when Albus had ordered him to. And earlier this evening when Harry had panicked, thinking the werewolf dead, it had been all Severus could do to keep from grabbing him once more. He'd settled instead for touching his shoulders and had been desperately grateful when the boy had welcomed his touch.

Frankly, he was disgusted with himself. He usually had more self-control than this -- and he'd certainly never lusted after one of his students. His last lover had been a man his own age that he'd met at a Potions Conference -- a rather brilliant, charming blond named Andre. And before him there had a been a dark-skinned woman ten years his senior who had taken him into the Amazon to search for rare potion ingredients. While he had always been the more dominate partner in any relationship, he had never sought out people so much younger than himself, or so naive or innocent they didn't know what they were getting into. He'd never been jealous or possessive of past lovers; he hadn't cared enough. He had let them all go with barely a glance back. And he had certainly never sought out someone so young that they didn't know exactly what they wanted from a relationship. He had never seduced a virgin.

Albus said that the feral transference did not make him feel anything alien -- it merely amplified the emotions already inside him. And it seemed that Harry brought out feelings he had tried to remove from his nature -- possessiveness, jealousy, and the desire to control. He saw those emotions as character flaws -- certainly they had been motivating factors in his father's life. He comforted himself somewhat with the realization that along with all those darker feelings was the overwhelming need to protect as well. But to feel such lust for someone so much younger than himself, someone so innocent -- he wasn't certain what to think any more.

Something Lucius said echoed in his mind. "I had not realized how attractive the boy had become," Lucius had told him. "I am not blind. My tastes have always run toward women -- but Mr. Potter has an aura of power about him."

As far as he could remember, and he'd known Lucius his entire life, Lucius Malfoy had never expressed an interest in another male. From what he heard from Diana even Julius had tried several times to seduce Malfoy into his bed and had failed. And while Lucius certainly had no qualms about seducing virgins or those far younger than he was -- the mistress he'd killed Severus' father over had been only fourteen -- they had always been female.

And yet Lucius found Harry attractive -- there was a reason he'd set McGonagall to guard the door last night during the meeting with Fudge. Severus had seen the way Lucius had stared at Harry in the Great Hall. There was no way he was going to allow the man within ten feet of the boy.

Was it the power, he wondered? Was that what was throwing him into such chaos, a lust for power? He had never believed in the things the Dark Lord had stood for -- had never bought into his ideology or the madness he could see threatening on the horizon. He had joined the Death Eaters strictly to stop his father -- to reclaim his family honor. But despite his opposition to the philosophy, he had always understood the attraction to the power. And he really had embraced at least part of the lifestyle -- the blood sports, vicious duels with sword and wand against any opponent foolish enough to anger him, or stupid enough to challenge him.

He blamed part of that on the Marauders. They had tormented him, and he had turned vicious in retaliation. But he had always thought of it more as a sport rather than a reflection of who he truly was. And when he had begun spying for Albus, he had never once lost sight of the main goal. But maybe his motives had not been as pure as he'd always believed? Maybe he had joined Albus and the Order because he had wanted to be part of something greater than himself, wanted some access to the enormous power Albus Dumbledore possessed, and not because it was simply the right thing to do?

Maybe he was drawn to Harry for exactly the same reason?

The boy was young and naive about so many things. He would always be smaller than him, slender and graceful, physically weaker than he was. But despite all of that it was becoming more and more apparent that Harry Potter was magically stronger than he was -- possibly stronger than all of them. At the young age of sixteen, he had already done feats of magic Severus knew he could never do. Certainly he could never have moved that Capstone -- and spells that didn't even work for anyone else seemed to work with ease for Harry. And while the boy knew nothing about Occlumency, he seemed to have a will that was unbreakable, a strength of mind and thought that would not let him give up no matter what.

The boy had no skill at all with a sword, and yet he had slain a Basilisk at the age of twelve. He'd been kept locked in a cupboard most of his life, and yet he could stand before an army of hardened warriors and lead them into battle without flinching. And last night when he had touched Harry, he could feel his power radiating from his skin, and it had felt intoxicating.

Was that it? Was that where all his 'feelings' were coming from? A lust for power? Was there to be nothing good or noble or pure at all in his life, his motives for fighting against the Dark nothing more than Slytherin ambition? It was a rather depressing thought.

And yet, he hadn't lied to Harry. He had not been thinking about duty or honor when he'd run blindly into the Winter Lands to rescue the boy. The only thing he had been thinking about was getting Harry back safely. Protecting him -- with his life if necessary.

Severus sighed and shook his head. Why didn't Gryffindors come with instruction manuals? It would certainly make his life far easier.

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Charlie Weasley had never considered himself a sneaky person -- like most Gryffindors he confronted things head on and left the plots and machinations to the Slytherins of the world. But his training with Dragons had taught him how to hunt, and sneaky or not he knew how to lay a trap.

He wasn't certain what precisely had sparked the idea -- it had been nothing more than a passing fancy at first. He'd seen the way Draco Malfoy had looked at him the other night -- he wasn't the first young man to look at him like that. And he remembered two years ago at the Tri-Wizard Tournament catching the Malfoy heir's eye several times back then too. Again, it had been nothing more than a passing fancy, a brief amusement to think that one of the high and mighty Malfoys might glance at a lowly Weasley with something more than contempt.

But last night, Draco had done more than simply watch him; he'd succeeded in catching Charlie's attention in return. Oh, he knew all the reasons why it was not a good idea -- the young man was a spoiled brat, son of a Death Eater, most likely fated for Azkaban himself. But all those reasons seemed unimportant when weighed against the sheer beauty of the young man. He was elegant and refined, all pale and gold with rosy lips and eyes the color of the summer sky. Charlie couldn't help but return his appreciative attention, despite the fact that he knew nothing more would come of it.

But later that night when Severus had told them about the marriage proposal, and he'd seen the wild rage that had gripped Remus, something strange had come over Charlie -- something strong and terrible, a sense of righteous anger over what was being done to Sirius and Remus. And that thought had led him to thinking about Draco -- about the fact that Sirius would hate Draco for this. Would he hurt him, he wondered? Would the wolf hurt him? Would they tear apart all that pale skin and golden hair, and destroy the brilliant blue of those eyes? At that thought, a sense of possessiveness swept over Charlie, a desire to stop that from happening at all cost. Remus and Sirius did not deserve such a fate -- and Draco was meant for something else, for someone else. Draco was meant to be his. Even the name suggested that Fate agreed -- Draconis, the Dragon.

And so, simply put, Charlie laid a trap for the Dragon. He'd felt a momentary pang of guilt at the thought -- but then shook it off. After all, it was best for everyone. Sirius and Remus didn't deserve what was happening to them; Draco was obviously nothing more than a commodity that Lucius had decided to trade. At least this way Draco would be with someone who cared about him -- who would protect him. Any blame for the events about to unfold would be laid neatly at the feet of Lucius Malfoy who had set these things in motion in the first place.

The lure was easy enough. He'd spoken to the young man during his Care of Magical Creatures class. When he'd handed Draco the crup puppy he'd made certain to touch his hand, and he'd seen the way the young man's eyes had darkened in reaction. He'd blushed when Charlie had mentioned in passing that the baby unicorn down in the stables was an extraordinary sight. The lure was set; the next step was Draco's.

Charlie had just finished tending the wound on the hindquarter of one of the Thestrals in Stable number four when he'd heard the side door to the stable opening. It was just after dinner, and the majority of the students would be returning to their common rooms. Turning, he smiled when he saw Draco, heavily cloaked against the winter cold, sneaking into the stable, his blond hair ablaze beneath the Wizarding lights that lit the room.

Charlie moved silently out of the Thestral's stall, closing the gate behind him. He watched as Draco made his way toward the stall on the far side of the barn where the baby unicorn was housed. The young man had not yet noticed that he was not alone.

Charlie had made a point of staying away from the unicorn stall -- he was there to tend the Thestrals, not the unicorn. Unicorns were beautiful creatures, their white coats gleaming like moonlight, their horns like crystal, but they were also incredibly fussy, and only allowed the pure to touch them. It had been several years since Charlie had qualified for such things, but he watched in some amusement as the small unicorn foal eagerly pressed up against the bars of the stall and allowed Draco to stroke its soft nose. He felt a momentary pang of guilt as he realized the implications, but he dismissed it again, more determined now to continue. Son of a Death Eater or not, the young man was innocent yet of any great darkness.

"He likes you," he murmured softly. The Slytherin did not startle, confirming to Charlie that unicorn had not been the lure. Draco had come for him.

Draco turned his head toward him, allowing the requisite Malfoy sneer to replace the look of delight that had been on his face only moments before. Curiously enough the young man made no effort to move away from the unicorn, but continued stroking its nose. Charlie knew that Draco had no clue how telling that action was -- Slytherins after all thrived on their wild reputations. It confirmed to him that the rest of his trap would likely never be detected. Unicorns were covered in the fifth year Care of Magical Creatures textbook, right along with Dragons. Apparently Draco did not read the fine print.

"Of course he likes me; I'm a Malfoy," Draco replied haughtily, and while he tried initially to merely look Charlie in the eyes, his gaze seemed drawn down his body, lingering on the long line of his leather clad legs. A tempting blush rose in the young man's pale cheeks and his lips parted with a quick, indrawn breath.

Charlie smiled slowly and took a step toward him, moving cautiously so that he did not spook his quarry. It was important that he lure the young man to him. "Is there something special about being a Malfoy?" Charlie mused.

The young man sneered at him. "What would you know? You're just a Weasley." His gaze this time moved over the line of his broad shoulders and narrow waist, lingering on the open neck of his half unbuttoned shirt where golden skin was showing through. Days on end out in the sun and weather working with the Dragons all over the world had bronzed his skin; he was not prone to the freckles that plagued his younger brothers. And then Draco's eyes widened as he caught sight of the thing that hung from a gold chain around Charlie's neck. The trap was sprung by the one thing no Dragon could resist.

"What's that?" Draco breathed, losing all interest in the unicorn as he turned his full attention on Charlie. If there was one thing you could count on, it was a Malfoy's greed. Draco, for all his innocence, was no different.

Charlie lifted the chain around his neck, holding the item up for Draco to see clearly. At first glance it might seem nothing more than a golden galleon tied around his neck, but it did not bear any of the Ministry markings found on English currency. It was coin-shaped, but hammered and rough in finish. The attraction lay in the material itself -- for there was truly nothing else like it in the world. Golden in color, it seemed to have a light inside of it, as if the surface of the metal was crystal and the golden color came from a living flame deep within it. While it did not give off any true light of its own, it glittered and gleamed hypnotically, absorbing all the ambient light around it.

"Have you never seen Dragon gold before?" Charlie asked as he allowed the coin to spin lightly on its chain, flashing and flickering with each movement.

"Dragon gold?" Draco asked, those blue eyes glued to the fiery surface.

"It is gold that has been melted over and over again beneath the heat of Dragon fire," Charlie told him. "Its one of the most rare substances in the world."

"Where did you find it?" Draco took a step toward him, drawn in by the flashing gold.

Charlie smiled at that. "It's part of a Dragon Tamer's final training. We have to sneak into the caves of the oldest and most ancient of all the Dragons and steal a piece of their gold for ourselves. After that we use it tame the young Dragons. No Dragon can resist its lure and with it we're able to bind them to us and keep them tame." Any guilt that might still be lingering within him was assuaged by his words -- he'd given the young man fair warning after all.

Draco stepped closer, and reached out a pale, slender hand to touch the gold. But before he could make contact, Charlie closed his fist over the coin, hiding it from his sight. The young man's eyes flashed upward, meeting his gaze. He looked outraged at being denied. Charlie just gave him a slow lazy smile. "Dragon gold is sacred and very magical," he informed him. "I'll let you touch it, but only for a price."

The young man looked furious for a moment and then intrigued. He seemed all at once to realize just how close he was standing to Charlie and his face flushed with heat. His eyes, blue as the clearest sky, reflected a wary hunger. "What price?" he demanded, unconsciously licking his lips when Charlie let his gaze linger upon them.

"A kiss," Charlie told him. "Like it says in all the old stories." It was another warning, one the young man did not heed, ignoring it as he had all the others.

Draco's gaze moved back to Charlie's closed fist where he hid the gold. He raised his hand, gently trailing his perfectly manicured fingers over the scarred knuckles of Charlie's fist. Charlie felt his own breath catch in his throat at the gesture, and he knew in that instant that come hell or high water, he would not abandon the course he had set for himself. This was one Dragon who would not escape.

"Alright," Draco agreed, softly. "A kiss."

Consent given, Charlie did not waste a moment to allow the young man to reconsider. He caught the back of Draco's head with his other hand, tangling his fingers in the silken locks of blond hair, and pulled the slender body to him, claiming his mouth with a fierce kiss. The young man gasped in shock, but melted against him a moment later, both his hands moving to slide against the firm planes of Charlie's chest and around his body.

Charlie released the gold and wrapped his other arm around Draco's waist, pulling the young man hard against him as he deepened the kiss, moving hungrily against his mouth, tasting and devouring those rose-soft lips. And Draco responded, as he knew he would, with hunger and need and the driving desperation that had fueled his inability to keep his eyes off him every time they'd met.

When finally Charlie ended the kiss and leaned back slightly so that he could see Draco's flushed face and swollen lips, the young man made no effort to leave the circle of his arms. He looked dazed and breathless and only after a long minute seemed to remember what the point of all this had been. Still pressed against Charlie's body, either ignoring the obvious signs of arousal pressed hard into him, or enjoying it, he raised one hand to touch the gold now resting against Charlie's chest. His eyes flared with light when his fingers grazed the coin.

"It's warm," he breathed, and the inner fire inside the gold seemed to shift and move, dancing in response to his caress.

"It likes you," Charlie teased, and he trailed one hand down the young man's back, caressing the firm muscles of his behind. Draco moaned and pressed into him, raising his face eagerly, and Charlie kissed him again, tongue moving deeply inside. It took only moments before Draco was pulling at his shirt, tugging it open even as he writhed desperately against him, seeking some friction to relieve the ache welling inside of him.

Charlie stepped away from him then, releasing him, though it took all his will power to do so. Draco stared at him with wild, hungry eyes, confused by the turn of events. He watched him in breathless silence as Charlie moved toward one of the empty stalls near the back of the stable. Charlie glanced over his shoulder and smiled teasingly. "Are you coming?" he asked softly, his voice low and filled with promise.

Draco did not even hesitate, following immediately, his eyes flaring in anticipation. Charlie pulled him back into the darkness of the stall, tugging off the heavy winter cloak the young man was wearing, and tossing it down onto the clean sweet-smelling hay that covered the floor. Before the young man could remember that a Malfoy would never do something so crass as lie on the ground, Charlie had pulled him into his arms again and kissed him, pressing him down onto the cloak and the hay and covering him with his own body. He moaned softly when Draco's arms wrapped around him, welcoming him eagerly.

He imagined he could spend hours exploring Draco's body, for as he uncovered that pale, perfect skin, pealing away his clothing, Charlie saw that he was indeed as beautiful as he had ever imagined. Draco's inexperience was obvious, for he gasped and blushed each time he was touched somewhere new, but he was also eager to learn and desperate for whatever Charlie gave him. It was strange how the softest caress or a whispered compliment could set off the strongest reactions in him, as if he'd never before been treated with such care or tenderness. And Charlie regretted that he did not have more time this first night to spend hours worshiping the body that writhed beneath him. No matter, he told himself with a promise, there would be other nights ahead.

Unwilling to risk stopping and breaking the mood, Charlie used a whispered spell to prepare the young man, and by then they were both so desperate and tightly strung it was all he could do to breach his body with care, moving slowly for he did not want to cause him pain. Even still, Draco cried out and clutched at him wildly, digging his fingers into the muscles of his back, burying his face against Charlie's neck as if to hide the tears that momentarily stung his eyes. Charlie kissed him gently, and stroked his hair, holding his body still as he allowed Draco to grow accustomed to the sensation. One final thing, Charlie reminded himself, one final piece to the trap. Time at last to close and lock the cage.

"Draco," he whispered. "I'll give you a piece of my Dragon gold, but you have to ask for it. You have to ask for it." He stared intently down into Draco's blue eyes.

Draco's gaze shifted, staring now at the fiery piece of Dragon gold that hung between them, the chain around Charlie's neck dangling over him as Charlie held himself poised over his body. The gold spun and danced, holding his attention. Charlie rolled his hips slowly, driving himself deeper into Draco's body. Draco moaned, his back arching at the sensation. "Yes," he whispered. "Give it to me, give me the gold."

It was all the permission Charlie needed. Bracing himself on one hand, Charlie grabbed hold of the fiery coin and uttered a spell that triggered some secret magic deep inside the gold. The coin immediately broke in two and Charlie pressed the extracted piece down onto Draco's chest, letting it come in contact with his heated skin. And then he set all thoughts of gold aside and gave in to the demands of his body, moving swiftly now and driving himself in and out of the hungry flesh below him. All thoughts of right or wrong were forgotten, and there was only heat and fire and the building sensation of light and power inside both of them. He kissed Draco hungrily, reaching between them to stroke the young man to completion. And when he felt Draco cry out and come, he let himself go and exploded deep inside him. Had Draco's eyes been opened he might have noticed the blinding light that emanated from both pieces of Dragon gold in that instant.

Later, Charlie lay against the young man's side, propped up on one elbow as he stared down at the pale blond and watched him recover from their passion. He stroked Draco's body slowly with one hand, and saw the contented smile on that beautiful face as he relished the caress.

Eventually Draco remembered the piece of gold, and he reached up to pluck the half coin from where it still rested on his sternum. His eyes widened as he stared at the broken piece of coin -- unlike the gold still hanging around Charlie's neck, this piece was fiery red. The fire inside it burned like molten lava and the metal had darkened to nearly the color of the purest ruby. It was utterly beautiful, and held the Slytherin's attention completely.

"It's red," he breathed in shock.

"Of course it is, Dragon," Charlie told him. "It always turns red when it's given away." If he caught the endearment in place of his name, he did not comment.

"Why does it turn red?" Draco asked curiously.

Charlie laughed at that. "Didn't you read your fifth year Care of Magical Creatures textbook? It explains all about Dragon gold in great detail in the appendixes."

"Of course I read it," Draco lied, and then smiled in satisfaction at the piece of gold in his hand as if just now realizing what a truly rare thing he held in his possession.

Charlie smiled in amusement and sat up, heedless of his nudity. He reached for his leather trousers, aware that Draco's gaze had moved from the gold now to his body, his eyes lingering on his naked form. Ignoring the appreciative stare, Charlie retrieved his wand and a slender golden chain from his clothing. Reaching out to take the piece of red gold from Draco's hand, he used his wand to fasten it to the length of chain. Draco watched curiously. Then motioning Draco to sit up and turn, he carefully placed the chain around the young man's neck, noticing the faint Malfoy heir tattoo on his shoulder blade -- it would darken the day his father died and Draco became the Head of House. Using his wand, Charlie sealed the ends of the chain closed. He wondered how long it would take Draco to figure out that this chain would not come off.

"There you go, my Dragon," Charlie told him. "Now you can show off your prize to all your friends."

Draco seemed pleased with the idea and he fingered the gold in smug delight. Charlie gently kissed his forehead and the young man glowed with the attention.

Despite the warming charms on the stable, it was still the dead of winter, and both of them quickly grew chilled without their clothes. They dressed quietly, Draco stealing glances at Charlie as he refastened all his buttons. When they were dressed, they sat for a moment in the sweet smelling hay, listening to the sounds of the wind blowing outside.

"I have to get back before curfew," Draco sighed after a moment.

"I know," Charlie agreed. "It's nearly time now."

Despite this, Draco made no move to leave. He seemed to grow pensive the longer he sat there. He plucked at a piece of straw clinging to his trousers. "My father has arranged a marriage for me," he confessed softly.

"Do you know to whom?"

The young man shook his head. "No," he admitted. "He wouldn't tell me. Only that it was someone suitable for my bloodline." He sounded disappointed, bitter.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Dragon," Charlie told him.

Draco's blue eyes looked upward, filled with hurt. "You don't care?"

Charlie threaded his fingers through the golden locks of Draco's hair and pulled him toward him, kissing him deeply and soothing the hurt he had unintentionally caused. For all the Malfoy heir's spoiled arrogance, he was still a young man caught up in the turbulent emotions of his first-time. "Of course I care, Dragon," he told him fiercely when he was done kissing him breathless. "I just don't think you should worry. Things have a way of working out. It will be alright."

Draco searched his face intently, as if looking for some promise in his eyes. Charlie just smiled at him and stroked his cheek, marveling at the flawlessness of his skin.

"Can I come back tomorrow night?" Draco asked softly, and then flushed as if embarrassed to have asked such a thing or to be caught sounding so needy.

"I look forward to it," Charlie told him. "Good night, Dragon."

Draco smiled at him, a soft, shy expression that was probably as foreign to his features as it was honest in its emotions. In that one instant Charlie could see all the potential for the man Draco could become away from the influence of his father and all the Dark things that had surrounded him. And despite everything, the trap, the magic the young man knew nothing about yet, and the collar he now unknowingly wore about his neck, Charlie believed he had done the right thing. Draco was his now, and he would keep him safe.

---------------------------

Author's Note:

Poor Draco -- doesn't have a clue yet what he's unknowingly done. He'll find out soon enough. I almost feel guilty…almost. I rather enjoyed writing Charlie's part here -- hope you enjoyed it as well. I rather suspect I'll get mixed reviews for this chapter. Charlie did do something rather naughty here, though in his defense he is also suffering under the influence of the feral transference.

Curiously, I've made a point of saying that Harry is still so young, which is why Severus is so reluctant to pursue him. And yet here is Draco, the exact same age, having a proverbial roll in the hay. In defense of this, Draco, while obviously still a virgin, is also a great deal more aware of what he wants (after all Harry didn't want to marry Snape). And he was rather desperate -- since he knew he was about to be married off to someone he doesn't even know. If he doesn't go after Charlie now, he figures he'll never get the chance. Also, unlike Severus and Harry, Charlie and Draco are much closer to the same age. If Ron is 16, that makes the twins 18, Percy 19-20, which puts Charlie somewhere between the ages of 21-23.

A couple of people have asked about Lucius' reaction to Draco's interest in Charlie -- he refers to it as a perversion, despite the fact that Charlie is a pureblood. Obviously since Lucius chose Sirius to be Draco's spouse, this isn't about him being a man. No, this is strictly about him being a Weasley, a blood traitor and a poor peasant. And yes Lucius though that Andromeda marrying a Muggle (and more important having children with one) was more disgusting than what Regulus did with the troll. Muggles rank below trolls in Malfoy's book.

Several people have also asked if the Malfoy plot is just a side story unrelated to the main plot of this story -- the answer is no. While I admit that the engagement to Sirius and Charlie's plot just came to me -- Lucius always had a part to play in the future events of this story. There were several events that I had to set up based on my main plot, and I was uncertain how to get the characters to that place. Lucius' proposal solved all those plot problems for me -- positioning all the characters where I needed them to be. So while it did just come to me -- it worked out in the grand scheme of things. It also gives me a chance to show Lucius' motivation -- which will become important when he plays the roll required of him later.

I'm pleased that so many people are anxious about the fate of Remus -- I got a lot of criticism at first that Remus/Sirius took away too much focus from Harry/Severus. But now the majority of the readers seem equally interested in both 'ships'. Beyond the original cliché, I never really saw this story as a strictly Snarry tale -- rather it is a story about the events of a great war. The relationships are simply what keep the characters focused on what is important in their lives -- and not just the romances but the friendships as well. The loyalty of his friends and family will play a major part in Harry's life.


	46. Chapter 46 Seeing Red

Chapter 46 - Seeing Red

Hermione read through the newspaper at Gryffindor table the next morning while she and Ron waited for Harry to arrive. There were more photos of Harry on the front page -- still from the night he'd returned to the castle, clad in silver armor and looking like something out of a fairy tale. Ron hadn't said anything that night, but Hermione knew there was some bit of envy burning inside him. Oh, he didn't want the danger, or the responsibility, and he certainly didn't envy the sheer terror that must haunt Harry constantly. But every boy in the school wanted a chance to step into the spotlight that perpetually shone on Harry. Ironically the one person, who didn't seem to want it, was Harry himself.

But she'd been very proud of Ron that night. He hadn't missed a beat when he'd been questioned by the Minister; he'd backed Harry up without question. And earlier that night when the two of them, along with Ginny, had been questioned by practically everyone, Ron had stuck to the script Dumbledore had given them, happily leading them all around by the nose.

It had been Ron who had reasoned out that Dumbledore did not want the Ministry knowing where Harry had been taken simply because he believed that the Minister would bungle things and get Harry killed. Faced with Ron's absolute certainty of Dumbledore's plan, Hermione and Ginny had just followed his lead and answered everyone's questions with the most vague and baffling ideas they could think of. Had it not been for the constant worry for Harry eating away at the pit of her stomach, Hermione might have actually enjoyed the experience.

"Think he'd let me try on the armor?" Ron asked quietly as he looked over Hermione's shoulder at the photo of Harry on the paper.

"I'm sure he would," Hermione replied. "It would probably fit you better too. You're much taller and broader in the shoulder than Harry is."

Ron sat up straighter at that, seeming puffed up by the compliment. He grinned at her and Hermione could see that for a moment at least, all was right with his world. She had to admit -- there were times when Ron Weasley simply melted her heart with his honest emotional responses.

She could tell by the buzz of whispers that moved through the Hall that Harry had entered. A moment later he sat down across from the two of them, smiling at both, and Hermione thought he looked better rested today. She knew he was likely still worried about Sirius and Remus -- and with good cause too. And she knew that last night they had hidden Remus away to protect him from the Ministry. But still he seemed in better spirits than he had yesterday.

"Everything go okay last night?" Ron asked him quietly.

Harry nodded. "I'll tell you guys about it later. Have you come up with any ideas?"

Hermione knew he was asking if either of them had thought of a way to get Sirius out of the marriage to Malfoy. They had kicked around several ideas yesterday -- including using the Marriage Stone on one of them, either Draco or Sirius. But unfortunately they didn't know what sorts of legal ramifications that would have -- Hermione had insisted that they needed to get a copy of the Black family Conscriptus before making any decisions.

"Not yet," she confessed. "We need to see the Conscriptus first."

He frowned but began filling his plate, nodding toward the paper Hermione still held in her hands. "What about the paper today? Anything I should be worried about?"

"Just more of the same," Hermione replied. "The Wizengamot has demanded a full inquiry into the Winter Lands issue -- they want to find out why the requests for aid were ignored, or lost, or rewritten. And there's a lot of controversy over the Wizarding Registration Act. Things are pretty chaotic right now at the Ministry. I suspect a lot of people are going to lose their jobs over this -- Fudge isn't the only one in trouble."

"What is this Registration Act?" Harry asked as he buttered a piece of toast. "It was mentioned in the paper yesterday as well."

"A bad idea all around," Ron remarked looking rather disgusted. Hermione knew Ron didn't pay much attention to politics, but even he had followed the progress of this, largely due to his father. Normally Arthur Weasley was fond of all things Muggle, and the fact that he was so opposed to this had caught his son's attention.

"The Muggle government is trying to get all Wizards and Witches to register with their census bureau," Hermione explained to Harry.

"Voluntarily?" Harry questioned.

Hermione shook her head as she folded up her paper and set it aside. Like the majority of the populace she didn't think this was a good idea either. "No, they want to make it mandatory."

"What for?" Harry pressed, looking confused. "It doesn't make much sense. I mean they don't even know about the six unplottable counties. Why would they need to know about the people living in them?"

"Taxes," Hermione said simply and seeing the confused look on Harry's face she pushed on to explain. "They say it's just for a census, but the reality is, they want to be able to tax the Wizards and Witches living in Britain."

"Why would the Wizarding world pay taxes to the Muggle government? We don't use their public services -- the hospitals, their police, their transportation. How could they justify taxing people for a service they have no use for?"

"They don't have to justify it," Hermione shrugged. "Frankly they don't care. They just like the idea of getting more money. Needless to say it's causing controversy all over the Wizarding world. The biggest fear is the secrecy clause -- people want to know how the Wizarding world is going to remain secret from the Muggles if records are being taken. The government keeps trying to assure everyone that they've taken all that into account, but it seems a foolish risk. Sooner or later some accountant or committee is going to look at the records and wonder who all these people, who don't seem to exist anywhere else, really are."

Harry shook his head as he pushed his eggs around on his plate. "Well, from what I've heard the Muggle government doesn't have much chance of forcing anything on the Wizarding world," Harry replied. "Why is it even an issue? Why not just tell them to go mind their own business?"

There were a few other people listening in on the conversation and they all gave a cheer at Harry's statement. Harry grinned briefly at them, but turned his attention back to Hermione.

"That's the problem," Hermione replied. "For some reason the Ministry of Magic wants to agree to the Act. That's where the controversy is coming from."

"How much support does this Act have?" Harry frowned.

"None," Hermione shrugged. "The majority of the Wizarding world is against it. This is one place where everyone is united against Muggles. It's a bad idea all around."

"When you say majority how many do you mean? Fifty-one percent, sixty percent?"

"Try closer to ninety-five percent," Hermione corrected.

Harry's eyes widened at that. "You mean to tell me that nearly EVERYONE in the Wizarding world is against this, but the Ministry is still planning on going ahead with it? How is that even possible?"

"That's one of the main issues in the election, Harry," Hermione informed him. "Fudge is one of the main people pushing for this -- he's been trying to convince everyone it will be a good idea. He's got a lot of people backing him as well -- there's talk of corruption. That they're getting money from the Muggle government for agreeing to this. It's part of the reason why this whole thing with the Winter Lands is so unsettling. People are losing faith in the Ministry."

Hermione saw that her words had worried Harry, his eyes darkening as his thoughts turned inward. She could only imagine what sort of pressure he must be under. For the most part he had made a point of ignoring the insanity of the upcoming election, refusing to back any candidate. But now more than ever he had been thrust into the center of the political storm -- and after seeing him the other night dealing directly with the Minister of Magic, Hermione suspected he was finally beginning to realize just what sort of power he had -- not simply magical power, but the power to literally change the shape of their future.

Their talk then turned to different things as the other boys changed the subject to topics more interesting to them -- namely Quidditch. But Harry remained quiet. He turned when he spied Snape entering the Great Hall for morning breakfast, glancing briefly at the man and smiling. Hermione glanced toward the head table, watching curiously as the Potions Master returned Harry's smile with a nod of his head. Like Harry the man attracted a lot of attention when he entered, and Hermione heard the giggling start once more. Hufflepuffs this time -- a group of girls near the head table where actually batting their eyes at the Potions Master. Snape glared at them with a look that could melt steel.

Hermione looked curiously over at Harry, noticing the frown on his face as he watched the exchange between Snape and the Hufflepuffs. Her friend looked both irritated and confused by the giggling -- as if he were not entirely certain why he was so bothered by it. Hermione recognized the look -- she used to glare at Lavender Brown the same way every time the girl had flirted with Ron. Eventually of course Hermione had figured out that she'd been jealous. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Harry was experiencing something similar. She knew he was growing fond of Snape, but perhaps there was something more there as well. The truth was, Harry had always been a bit behind everyone else when it came to emotions. So many things that everyone else took for granted confused him. She remembered the bewildered look on his face the first time she had ever hugged him. It had been as if he hadn't understood why anyone would do such a thing to him.

A quick glance back at Snape revealed an angry, irritated man who didn't seem to understand why a group of girls were batting their eyelashes at him. Hermione had to stifle a chuckle. Between Harry and Snape, it was like the blind leading the blind.

The surprised whispering of a group of Ravenclaws caught Hermione's attention and she turned toward them, noting their attention caught by someone just now entering through the main doors. Glancing around she saw Draco Malfoy entering, walking with an annoyingly arrogant swagger.

And then she spied the thing hanging around his neck.

Hermione froze in shock, not certain she was actually seeing what her eyes were telling her. Draco Malfoy was wearing a medallion of Dragon gold around his neck. Red Dragon gold! The sheer improbability of the situation left her floundering for an appropriate reaction. But there was no mistaking the item -- red Dragon gold. He wore it proudly, showing it off like a prized possession.

A quick glance at the Ravenclaw table showed that all the students from fifth year on up were staring at Malfoy in disbelief, all of them obviously as bewildered as she was. Her head snapped around to look at the Hufflepuffs. There were only a handful of them who seemed to know the significance -- a couple of older students sitting at the end of the table. They were watching in wide-eyed disbelief. A quick glance up and down Gryffindor table only revealed two seventh year students with any clue.

Turning to watch more closely, she saw Draco make his way toward Slytherin table. A quick glance at Slytherin table revealed a mixture of reactions. Several students were literally dumbfounded; many others, obviously clueless, were staring enviously at the gold Malfoy was displaying.

"Look at that prat," Ron grumbled as Draco strutted down the isle toward an empty seat near Pansy Parkinson. "Wonder if that's a bribe from his father? He's always showing off!"

Hermione, thinking that perhaps this was some sort of joke, turned to see what the teachers at the head table were making of all this. Snape, who'd been in the process of putting several slices of bacon on his plate, had frozen when he'd spotted Draco, one hand holding the platter of bacon still in the air. Dumbledore actually had a hand over his mouth, either holding back laughter or a gasp of shock; Hermione couldn't quite tell. The man's eyes were twinkling brightly, however, so she suspected it was mirth. McGonagall was holding a butter knife frozen in mid air, her own mouth opened in shock.

Then Hermione noticed the expression on Charlie Weasley's face and a strange suspicion stirred in her mind. Charlie, seated next to Hagrid while he was visiting in the castle, was gazing hard down at his plate as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He was attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to hide a smirk.

Across the hall at Slytherin table, Draco had sat down, seeming oblivious to the disturbance he was causing. He ignored the dumbfounded Slytherins entirely and turned toward Pansy and Blaise to preen. Both of his friends were gazing rather enviously at the gold around his neck. When Pansy reached out to touch the gold, Draco slapped her hand away, warning her off. Though Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying, she could see that he was bragging to them about something.

She noticed then that he had a rather familiar yellow book in his hands, and after a moment he opened it up and began leafing through it. It was their Care of Magical Creatures textbook from last year.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" Harry finally asked, having noticed the odd expression on her face. He glanced at the head table as he asked, and frowned deeply when he noticed that Snape was still holding the platter of bacon frozen in the air.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron grumbled. "It's just a stupid bauble. Don't tell me you're impressed?"

"It's red Dragon gold," she said simply.

"So?" Ron demanded. Harry was still frowning at the teachers, his gaze moving to McGonagall now.

"Dragon gold," she repeated. "Red Dragon gold." Ron shrugged cluelessly, and Harry turned his bewildered gaze on her. She shook her head in frustration. "Am I the only one who reads the appendixes in our books?"

"Our books have appendixes?" Ron asked.

Hermione huffed in frustration and looked back at the Ravenclaws -- at least they had done the required reading. Even the fifth years, who were using the book this year, appeared to know the significance of red Dragon gold. A quick glance at the head table revealed that none of the teachers had moved -- still watching the oblivious Malfoy in stunned silence. She wondered who was going to break first. Apparently no one knew how to react, the sheer unlikelihood of the situation catching them all off guard.

Draco was reading now, Hermione noticed. He had the book open to the back -- no doubt reading the very appendix she'd just referred to. He grew still as he read, and the smug look began draining away from his face, leaving him pale. He read onward, and as his eyes moved down the page, the paleness began to give way to redness, his cheeks flushing with heat. His eyes grew wide, his hand reaching upward to clutch suddenly at the chain around his neck, yanking at it. And upon realizing that it was not going to break he seemed to explode. From one instant to the next he went from utter silence to blind, raging fury.

Hermione watched in shock as Draco Malfoy leaped to his feet and turned in rage toward the head table. "I'll kill you!" he shouted, grabbing the yellow book and flinging it blindly at the head table. "I'll kill you! You bastard! I'll kill you!" His voice rose to deafening levels, reverberating off the high ceiling and he began flinging anything his hands came into contact with at the head table. Plates, platters, goblets of pumpkin juice, food -- students were diving out of the way in panic for his aim was not aided by his mindless wrath. When he began flinging silverware -- and there were a lot of very sharp daggers on the Slytherin table -- the teachers leaped into action and slapped up shields to protect themselves and the students from the Slytherin's fit of temper.

It took Hermione only a moment to realize that Draco was attempting to hit Charlie Weasley. All his rage was directed directly at Charlie who was watching the proceedings almost gleefully.

"He's gone mad!" Ron exclaimed in shock as he dodged a flying plate. The teachers' shield was deflecting many items, and they were flying around the room. Several older students threw up their own shields with various degrees of success.

Students scrambled out of the way, diving under the tables as Draco scrambled for more ammunition, actually climbing up onto the Slytherin table so that he could reach the daggers and plates further down. For a moment there was utter pandemonium, and Draco was too caught up in his rage to even be aware of the fact that everything he was flinging at Charlie was bouncing off the shield and missing his intended target. And then Draco seemed to remember that he was a wizard and yanked out his wand, pointing it in the general direction of the head table. But at that point he was so far gone in his rage, the only spell he apparently remembered was Incendio. He hit the teachers' shield with blast after blast of ineffectual fire -- all neatly extinguished by Dumbledore

It was at that point that Charlie stood up, drew his own wand and hit Draco with a very strong stunning hex. The hex struck Draco dead center and he collapsed unmoving onto the tabletop. For a moment there was dead silence in the room.

"Sorry about that," Charlie announced as if he had been the one who had caused this disruption in the first place. He got up and made his way swiftly around the table, heading toward the unconscious Slytherin. Everyone in the room watched in utter silence as he grabbed the blond boy and slung him over his shoulder. "I'll just take him down to the infirmary and make certain he's alright," he announced with a grin to the head table. "Dragons can be so unpredictable outside their natural habitat."

Amongst the destruction of the Great Hall students began poking their heads out from under the tables to watch Charlie's progress. When Charlie passed by Gryffindor table, Ron stood up hesitantly. "Charlie? What's going on?" He looked as baffled as everyone else.

Charlie just grinned at him. "Oh, let's just say I've ended the Malfoy-Weasley family feud." It was then Hermione noticed the piece of yellow Dragon gold hanging around Charlie's neck -- a medallion that had been broken in two. Charlie disappeared through the Hall doors.

As one the students turned toward the head table to see what the teachers thought of all this. Dumbledore, Hermione noticed, was still trying valiantly not to laugh. "Professor Flitwick," he mussed. "Perhaps you and the prefects would straighten out the Great Hall while I go check on Mr. Malfoy with Professors Snape and McGonagall?"

"Yes, of course," Flitwick agreed. "My goodness! I haven't seen the like since Sirius Black charmed the ceiling to rain toads!"

While McGonagall and Snape followed Dumbledore out of the room, Professor Flitwick began setting the room to rights with a flick of his wand. Hermione cast several cleaning charms at Gryffindor table. A lot of the flying food had splattered them.

"I take it there's some significance to the red Dragon gold?" Harry asked Hermione as he and Ron resettled the bench that had been knocked over when they had all dived under the table.

Hermione nodded. "Only Dragons wear red Dragon gold," she explained.

"Obviously not, if Malfoy was wearing it," Harry replied.

"You don't understand," Hermione could barely believe it herself. "Dragon Tamers keep pieces of Dragon gold. They use it to tame Dragons." Neville and Seamus leaned toward them, listening intently as she continued. "When they tame a Dragon they give it a piece of the gold -- it turns red when they have the Dragon under their thrall. It's part of a magical ritual. There's an exchange of blood and the Dragon becomes the property of the Dragon Tamer. It's a magical bond."

"So you're saying that Malfoy stole this gold from one of Charlie's Dragons?" Ron guessed. "And he's angry because. . .is there a curse or something on it?"

"No, Ron," Hermione shook her head. "You can't steal red Dragon gold -- the collar doesn't come off unless the Dragon Tamer takes it off. The only way for Draco to have red Dragon gold is if he IS the Dragon."

"Draco Malfoy is a Dragon?" Harry asked, looking utterly confused.

"Right," Hermione agreed.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks with the other Gryffindors who were listening. "Draco Malfoy is a pureblood Wizard, Hermione," Ron said slowly as if trying to explain something very complex to a small child.

Hermione glared at him in irritation. "You are missing the point. Look, before there were Wizards older Dragons would use Dragon gold to control younger Dragons. An old powerful Dragon would bond a large clan of younger Dragons to him. When Wizards came along they discovered they could use the Dragon gold the same way -- they could control the Dragons to an extent using a similar ritual. But then they discovered that it was possible to use this same ritual to bond two people, but it's very rarely done -- because the person who receives the piece of red Dragon gold, is still considered a Dragon." She paused to see if they understood. "Legally, they're a Dragon," she clarified. "Draco Malfoy is no longer legally a Wizard. He's a Dragon. An animal."

"He's going to turn into a Dragon?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"No!" Hermione stamped her foot in frustration. "He's not going to turn into a Dragon. He's still a human. He's just not legally a human any more. For whatever reasons he's given up his rights as a Wizard."

Harry, along with the others, looked stunned, but Ron began giggling uncontrollably. His giggles quickly turned into full-blown laughter. "Are you saying my brother tricked a Malfoy into become an animal?"

"Well, apparently," Hermione shrugged. "Though I don't know how that works. As far as I know the ritual requires full consent to work properly." The other Gryffindors listening in began snickering then, joining Ron in his hilarious enjoyment of the Slytherin's predicament.

Hermione shook her head and glanced at Harry, who looked more confused than amused. "If nothing else, this solves Sirius' problem," she told him quietly.

"What?" Harry looked up instantly.

"Well, I haven't seen the Black family Conscriptus yet," Hermione admitted. "But I can pretty much guarantee that there is no way it would ever allow a non-human to marry into the Black family bloodline."

Harry smiled. A moment later he started chuckling, then laughing. Hermione just sighed and sat back down to wait for both Ron and Harry to regain control of themselves.

---------

Author's Note:

While I'm rather fond of Draco, one must never forget that he is still a Malfoy -- an arrogant, spoiled brat who would likely be prone to temper tantrums. But as Charlie spends his life taming Dragons -- I don't think he'll mind all that much. Next up -- Lucius finds out.


	47. Chapter 47 Cedo

Chapter 47 - Cedo

When Severus walked into the Infirmary along side Albus and Minerva, he saw Charlie Weasley settling the still unconscious Draco Malfoy onto one of the waiting beds. As they watched, the red-haired man turned Draco partially over and checked the back of his neck to see if the chain holding the Dragon gold had cut into his flesh when he'd tried frantically to pull it off. While the skin was red, it was unbroken. Charlie ran a careful finger under the chain as if to sooth the flesh.

That action more than anything settled Severus' unease. While Draco was not his favorite person in the world -- the boy was a spoiled arrogant brat who would likely go the way of his father -- he was still a student, and one of his Snakes. Severus had always felt the need to look after his Slytherins since so many other teachers tended to ignore them in favor of the other houses. He would not stand by and allow someone to abuse one of his charges.

"That is what we think it is?" Albus asked Charlie, pointing to the gleaming piece of red Dragon gold around Draco's neck.

"Yes," Charlie said simply, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"You coerced a student into accepting--" McGonagall began in outrage; Charlie, while not a student any longer, was still one of her Gryffindors.

But Charlie cut her off, interrupting her words before she could finish the accusation. "You can't coerce someone into accepting Dragon gold," he informed her. "The magic doesn't work if it's not consensual."

"Impossible," Severus shook his head. "Draco is a Slytherin, and a Malfoy. He knows more about Dark Magic than most people ever learn. He knows how powerful Blood Magic is. There is no way he would ever willingly exchange blood with another Wizard."

"Actually," Charlie grinned at him. "The ritual specifically calls for an exchange of 'life fluid'. Everyone just assumes it has to be blood."

"Well, what else could it possibly refer to?" Minerva exclaimed. "Blood is the most. . ." She stuttered to a stop as if something else had just occurred to her, her cheeks turning rosy with embarrassment.

Severus stared at the young man in shock. Charlie looked far too smug for his words to be taken any other way. "You didn't?" he asked.

Charlie just grinned. "I assure you, it was completely consensual."

Severus moved over to a chair and sank down into it. "His father is going to kill you."

"For the love of Merlin, Mr. Weasley!" Minerva exclaimed in outrage. "What on earth would possess you to do something like this!" When she received no answer from the smug young man she turned toward Dumbledore. "Albus! Certainly you don't condone this?"

"I'm afraid it's rather out of my hands, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, though he looked rather amused. "What's done is done, and only Charlie can undo it. And I rather think that the blame for this can be placed ultimately at the feet of Lucius Malfoy, unless I miss my guess."

"You were in the room when Lupin went feral," Severus stated, looking at Charlie with understanding in his eyes. He hadn't been aware of the fact the Weasley boy had any feelings for Draco, but after his own experience he knew how even the slightest bit of lust could be amplified out of control.

Charlie just shrugged. "Neither Remus nor Sirius deserved what was happening to them. And neither did Draco. Now all three of them are safe."

"Safe?" Minerva protested. "You've stripped the boy of his humanity! How does that make him safe?"

"I've removed him from the care of Lucius Malfoy," Charlie replied. "His father has no control over him now. I won't let that man use him ever again! He deserves to be free, free to become the person he is meant to be."

"Free!" Minerva exclaimed. "How does enslaving him make him free?"

Charlie frowned at that, glaring hard at her. "Professor McGonagall, you've known me nearly my whole life. Have I ever done something that would make you think that I would vindictively harm another person? Do you honestly think I would do anything to ruin that young man's life?"

Minerva grew still at that, her eyes flickering to the young man still lying unconscious on the bed. Her disapproving frown lessened somewhat, but did not vanish. "He's a Malfoy. The Weasleys hate the Malfoys."

"We hate Lucius Malfoy," Charlie corrected. "And with good cause. Draco is not his father, far from it. Anyone who looked deep enough could see that -- though I suspect very few people ever bother. Well I have, and what I've seen is worth saving."

A moan from the bed drew all their attention. Draco was throwing off the stunning charm, waking up. His hand moved to his head briefly, brushing back his blond hair as his eyes fluttered. Then, remembering what had happened, he sat up suddenly, staring in shock at those gathered around his bed. His eyes narrowed when he spied Charlie, rage burning in them, though Severus thought he could also see some fair bit of hurt as well. "You!" he shouted at Charlie and raised his tightly clenched fists to strike Charlie. Charlie caught hold of his wrists and restrained him easily.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Severus snapped, his voice catching the boy's attention immediately. "Control yourself!" His Slytherins were well trained to obey him, knowing better than to cross him.

Draco reined in the fury that made him want to physically strike out. But his anger had not abated. "Take this off me at once!" he ordered, grabbing the chain that held the red Dragon gold.

"No, Dragon," Charlie said simply.

"Don't call me that!" Draco shouted, his eyes flashing. "Take this off of me! My father will make you!"

Charlie's eyes hardened at that. "Your father was about to make you marry Sirius Black, a man all but bonded to a werewolf. Do you know what werewolves do to people who come between them and their mate?"

Draco paled at his words and looked swiftly toward Severus for confirmation of his words. Severus wasn't certain if Draco knew either the identity of his intended spouse or anything about Black's fondness for Lupin. He nodded to the boy in acknowledgement.

"Sirius Black?" Draco asked in disbelief. It was likely he'd heard many conflicting stories about Black -- both the faulty information about his past printed in the paper, and whatever pieces of the truth he might have gleaned from his father. "Why would he pick Sirius Black? You're lying!"

"He is not lying, Mr. Malfoy," Severus informed him. "Your father asked me to present the proposal to Black myself. And Mr. Weasley is quite correct. Lupin would tear you apart if he was allowed to get near you."

"Lupin!" Draco shuddered in horror at the thought -- like most purebloods he had an intrinsic fear of werewolves. Draco had never been particularly brave, and every manner of prejudice had been beaten into him. "Are you telling me that my father set me up?" he demanded then, reading the worst possible interpretation into events. "That he tried to kill me?" The look of betrayal in the boy's eyes was painful to see.

Severus could understand the question -- if Lucius did want his son dead, what a rather unique way of going about it. He'd be completely innocent of any crime himself, and could have Lupin destroyed for doing the deed instead. But still -- to think such a thing of his own father, to have that be the first thought that filled his head. It did not bode well for the life the boy must have lived up to now.

"Actually Mr. Malfoy, I think this was your father's rather misguided attempt to save you," Albus informed the bewildered boy, the twinkle in his eyes dimmed now with some sadness. He too seemed to find the idea that Draco would believe such a thing tragic, and sought to offer some small comfort. Minerva had looked away entirely, unable to face the look of betrayal. "I believe this is his way of keeping you from other influences that might be detrimental to your health. Regardless of anyone's alliances, no one could doubt that Sirius Black is one of the few people in England of suitable lineage for you."

Draco frowned. Severus knew he was cunning enough to understand that Albus was referring to the Dark Lord. He was also smart enough not to reference it directly and possibly implicate his father in anything. But Lucius had never been a kind man, and had certainly never been an affectionate man. Severus suspected Draco was having a hard time accepting that his father might have any desire at all to protect him -- let alone in such a manner. Instead Draco shot a glare at Charlie.

"You tricked me!" he accused, and this time they could all see the hurt behind that accusation. Severus found himself squirming uncomfortably at the look in Draco's eyes. Would Harry have looked at him like that, he wondered, if he had not stopped his actions the other night?

Charlie's gaze softened. "I told you not to worry. Things have a way of working out." He raised his hand to touch the boy, but Draco turned away from, shrugging off his hand when it touched his shoulder.

A sound at the infirmary door caught their attention, and they saw Hagrid standing there with a pensive look on his face. "Headmaster, Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley are here with a group of Aurors," the large man informed him.

"Goodness, that was fast," Minerva exclaimed. "How could they have found out about this so quickly?"

"Actually I don't think they are here about Draco," Albus replied with a frown. "Show them in here Hagrid. I'll deal with it."

"Yes, sir," Hagrid nodded, looking relieve by Dumbledore's words.

"This is about Lupin," Severus guessed.

Albus nodded. "Arthur sent me word about a search warrant this morning. He was trying to get an injunction against it, but I suspect he failed."

"He got the Euthanasia Order so quickly?" Severus asked in shock, thinking about what the news would do to Harry. A part of him hadn't actually believed that Lucius would go through with this -- to actually kill Remus so blatantly in order to secure the position he wanted for his son. It had been foolish to even consider any other possibility -- Lucius was a viper, always had been, always would be.

Albus shook his head. "A seizure for a formal Inquiry," he corrected. "Euthanasia requires a full vote from the Wizengamot. No doubt Fudge wants to turn this to his advantage."

"They're going to euthanize someone?" Draco asked in confusion.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Minerva said tartly, gazing sternly down at the student. "They want to euthanize Professor Lupin. At least that is a slightly more humane death than the beheading they had planned for Hagrid's hippogriff in your third year."

Draco flushed angrily at the reminder of the role he'd played in that event. "He was a vicious animal," he grumbled. "He attacked me."

"You are now classified as an animal, Mr. Malfoy," Minerva reminded him. The boy paled. "And after your behavior in the Great Hall I suspect there are many who would happily use the term vicious to describe you as well."

A sound at the door caught their attention again, and Severus rose from his chair to stand beside Albus and Minerva as a group of Aurors entered followed by Arthur and Lucius. Lucius, looking elegant in formal black robes, had a smug expression on his face that reminded Severus of the expression Draco had worn when he'd entered the Great Hall that morning. Draco, surprisingly, stayed utterly silent, making no move off the bed and out from behind the three professors standing in front of him. Arthur Weasley, who noticed his son standing in the background, looked tired and harried, his clothing somewhat rumpled.

The lead Auror, an older man Severus was not familiar with, handed a scroll to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, we have orders to search Hogwarts and take Remus Lupin into custody. I understand he has been staying here as a guest."

Dumbledore took the scroll and glanced at it briefly. "Yes, but I'm afraid he's gone at the moment. You are of course welcome to search the castle, but I do ask that you take care not to disrupt classes any more than necessary."

A flicker of irritation passed over Lucius' face -- Severus suspected he had been counting on Lupin still being present in the castle. Apparently the man had not truly realized just what a violent reaction the werewolf would have had to the proposal -- or perhaps he had not counted on Severus informing anyone other than Black about it.

"I'm sorry, Albus," Arthur broke in. "I've filed the necessary paperwork to get an injunction, but it keeps getting delayed mysteriously."

"That's quite alright, Arthur," Albus assured the man. "As I said, Lupin will not be found in the castle. And these things have a way of working themselves out as it is." Severus had to stifle a smile at that statement -- things had indeed been worked out in a rather unexpected manner. And to think Sirius Black was still oblivious to the chaos that centered around him.

The Aurors took that has their cue to begin their search, nodding politely to those present as they headed out to begin. Lucius however stepped forward arrogantly. "Severus, I trust you have taken steps to inform Sirius Black of. . ." he broke off when he finally spotted Draco sitting on the bed behind the three of them. His eyes narrowed. "What is my son doing in the infirmary?"

Draco immediately scrambled off the bed, standing up straight as he faced his father. "Hello, F..f..father," he stuttered. Lucius' lips tightened in displeasure -- a Malfoy did not stutter.

"Draco," Lucius drawled in cultured disdain. "What have you. . ." The man froze, and Severus knew he had spotted the red Dragon gold hanging around his son's neck. His hand tightened around his silver headed staff. Severus shifted slightly, moving his own hands into position to draw his wand quickly if necessary. "What in Salazar's name is that monstrosity hanging around your neck?"

Draco lifted one hand to grasp at the gold. They could all see that his hand was shaking. The boy had gone as white as a ghost.

"It's red Dragon gold, Lucius," Dumbledore said mildly. The reaction from Arthur Weasley was almost comically -- his eyes nearly bugged out.

But Lucius was not amused. He glared down at his son, fury burning in his eyes. "You exchanged blood?" he demanded of the terrified student.

"Blood?" Draco's voice broke when he spoke. He shook his head furiously. "No, of course not, I would never. . ."

Lucius hissed in rage, his knuckles turning white around his cane. It was obvious that he knew the alternate method of fluid exchange without further explanation. Trust Lucius to know every possible path to enslavement known to man. "You stupid boy!" he shouted. He started to draw the silver snakehead from his cane, revealing the black length of his wand. But instantly there were five other wands pointed directly at him. Draco just stood there in shock, unmoving.

Lucius stayed his hand, but did not seem intimidated by the wands pointing at him. He glared at Charlie -- Charlie's wand did not waver. "You are responsible for this, I assume?"

Charlie just nodded.

Lucius sneered at Draco, who flinched under the man's scrutiny. "You couldn't wait to spread your legs, could you?" he hissed.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Minerva exclaimed in outrage.

Lucius ignored her. "Remove it once," he ordered Charlie imperiously.

But Charlie just shook his head. "No."

"Then I demand satisfaction!" Lucius insisted, eyes gleaming with a glee Severus was very familiar with. Lucius was once of the most vicious duelers he'd ever seen.

Charlie's determination did not waver. "I'm not a child to be frightened, Malfoy," he growled. "I regularly tame Dragons. You think I'm afraid of a duel?"

But Lucius just sneered at him. "The duel falls to your father."

"I'm not afraid of you either, Lucius," Arthur assured him, though Severus seriously doubted the man stood any chance against Lucius.

"Actually, gentlemen," Albus interrupted, his eyes twinkling. "Since the Weasley family is publicly allied with the Dumbledores, the duel falls to me. I'd be more than happy to take up your challenge, Lucius, if that is what you wish?"

Lucius stiffened at the Headmaster's words and turned carefully to look at the man. Like everyone else in the room, save Draco, Dumbledore still had his wand pointed at Lucius' chest. Though the blond man kept his expression in check, Severus knew what thoughts were likely going through the man's head. As a dueler, Albus Dumbledore was undefeated. Even Voldemort himself feared facing him one on one.

Lucius raised one blond eyebrow. "I take it you condone what has been done to my son?" he sneered at the Headmaster.

"You seem to know the ritual in question quite well, Lucius," Dumbledore remarked. "You know it must be consensual to work. Until Draco showed up this morning wearing that gold around his neck, I had no knowledge of the event in question. Are you suggesting I have the ability to control your son? The Imperious is still quite illegal last I checked."

"He is my son!" Lucius hissed at all of them, his anger barely held in check. Lucius was not known for controlling his temper. "The Heir to the Malfoy family. I will not allow him to remain chained like some animal!" Severus honestly wasn't certain if Lucius' outrage was true concern for his son, or humiliation at what this would do to the Malfoy name. Perhaps it was a bit of both. The man had ultimately wanted to protect Draco -- get him away from the Dark Lord's influence.

"Then perhaps Lucius you would be better served to find some compromise or agreement with Mr. Weasley rather than demanding duels that might not end well?" Dumbledore replied.

Lucius eyes hardened and he turned to glare at Charlie. A cold, disdainful smile curled one corner of his mouth. "Yes, of course," he spat. "I should have realized. How much do you want?"

Charlie frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Money, Weasley!" Lucius snapped. "How much money will this take? Dragons sell on the black market for about 20,000 galleon. I trust that will be sufficient."

Severus noticed the look of shame that crossed Draco's face as he realized he was about to be bought and sold like an animal. His gasp of shock caught all their attention, and the boy seemed to stumble as if growing faint. Fast as a striking snake, Lucius' hand shot out and grasped Draco by the chin, forcing him to look up. The man's fingers dug into the pale flesh painfully. "You brought this on yourself with your own stupidity!" he snarled. "You will not disgrace yourself further by--"

Before he could finish, Charlie had pulled Draco out of the man's grasp and shoved the boy behind him, wand still raised. "You will not touch him again, Malfoy!" he yelled in outrage.

Lucius' blue eyes flashed in outrage. "I will discipline my son as I see fit."

"He's my responsibility now," Charlie informed him. "He's under my protection, and you will not touch him again!"

"Gentlemen!" Albus interrupted them both, his voice hard and demanding. There was enough power behind it that even Lucius turned. "Fighting amongst ourselves is not going to settle this matter."

"Well, I do not want his gold," Charlie stated flatly.

Lucius ground his teeth together in frustration. "You want more than I offered? Name your price!"

"This isn't about galleons, Malfoy," Charlie exclaimed in disgust. "Not everyone cares about money. And may I remind you that an excessive fondness for gold is what caused all this to begin with. You've taught Draco very well."

Severus saw Draco flinch at those words, and he had the suspicion that they were not entirely true. The hurt he had seen in his eyes spoke more of an interest in Charlie than in the gold around his neck. The boy's humiliation seemed complete.

Lucius was fighting to control his temper. "What will it take to get you to remove that monstrosity around his neck?" he bit out.

Charlie frowned, glancing briefly over at his father, who frankly seemed at a loss for words by this exchange. "Marriage," said Charlie simply. "I will remove the gold the day he is married to me."

Draco looked up at Charlie in shock, looking more bewildered by the moment. Lucius just turned his back and stepped away, his fist tightening and relaxing over and over again on his cane. Truthfully, Severus was not surprised at Charlie's request -- after all it was the feral possessiveness and lust that had sparked this chain of events. But the reality was he did not need to offer this concession -- Draco was his legally already. There was nothing Lucius or any of them could do about this, and Lucius knew it. In truth the offer was extremely generous. Arthur was watching his son intently, eyes narrowed.

"I see," Lucius murmured and Severus saw something hard and dark gleaming in the man's eyes. He glanced at Dumbledore uneasily, hoping the man would say something to Charlie, warn him of the danger this offer posed. Draco held the superior position in society. Once Draco was married and freed of the Dragon gold, Charlie would be at the mercy of the Malfoy family.

Severus noticed the wary look in Draco's eyes, and he looked like he was about to speak up. It spoke volumes of his feelings for Charlie if he was willing to warn him against the very action that would free him. Severus honestly hadn't thought the boy capable of such feelings. Perhaps Charlie was right; no one had looked deep enough. A sharp glare from his father however instantly silenced any words Draco might say. The boy paled nervously, and glanced at Severus as if seeking some aid.

"And you will sign a marriage contract agreeing to remove the gold?" Lucius asked, turning once more to look at Charlie, his face expressionless.

Charlie smiled at him, and if the man had not been a Gryffindor Severus would have sworn it looked cunning. "I will agree to remove the gold in a Matromonium Cedo contract."

Severus' eyes widened, his expression mirrored by Lucius. Unlike his marriage to Harry, where they were essentially equals despite the monetary inequities, this would be far different. A marriage in Cedo would put Draco in a position of submission, despite his name, his money or his standing in society. Rather than Charlie becoming a member of the Malfoy family, Draco would become a Weasley. Charlie would make all the decisions about where they would live, who they would associate with, how they would spend their money. It would remove any control Lucius would have over the couple. Not until Lucius was dead and Draco inherited the Malfoy title would they resume the position of equals. Even their children would bear the Weasley name. Charlie it seemed had thought this out quite carefully -- his claim to Ron earlier that he had ended the feud between their families had been justified.

"Absolutely not!" Lucius roared.

"Then the gold stays where it is," Charlie shrugged.

"This is madness!" Lucius snarled. "It would be end of the Malfoy name."

"I'll agree to a hyphenated name," Charlie conceded. "Malfoy-Weasley."

"No!" Lucius turned toward Dumbledore. "This is impossible! Unacceptable!"

"It seems a generous offer to me, Lucius," Dumbledore informed him. "He does not have to agree to anything. You have no legal recourse at all."

Lucius turned then to Arthur, glaring at the man in utter hatred. "Talk to your son!" he ordered. "You must have some sense of propriety left within you! Tell him how shameful this is. You are the Head of House. Order him to see reason!"

An odd expression crossed Arthur's face and he nodded. "Of course, Lucius," he agreed mildly, and then turned toward Charlie. "Charlie?"

"Yes, Dad?" Charlie asked politely.

"As the Head of the Weasley household, I must tell you that if you don't stick to your convictions and do exactly what your heart tells you to do, I will never speak to you again." Arthur smiled at his son.

Charlie inclined his head in amusement. "Understood."

Lucius stared incredulous between the two of them, fury in every line of his body. But like everyone else in the room, the man understood that he had no choice in this matter. He could not allow his heir to remain chained like animal. The shame of that far exceeded any marriage -- Cedo or otherwise.

"Fine!" Lucius finally spat out, unable to do anything else.

"Wait," Charlie insisted, and the man's eyes flashed in outrage. "This is Draco's decision. He's the one who must agree to it, not you."

They all looked to Draco, Lucius' expression one of irritation. Draco, who'd sank back down onto the edge of the bed, looked up in surprise. No doubt he had been asked rarely to make such a decision for himself. His father had controlled his every move up until now. He seemed utterly at a loss for what to do. He looked to each person in the room, as if seeking an answer in their faces. He flinched away from his father's glare, and flushed under Charlie's intent stare. But finally he nodded his head in uncertain agreement, his fist clutching tightly to the Dragon gold around his neck. Though he had known the boy his entire life, Severus could not even guess at what he might be feeling.

"I'll have my lawyers draw up the contract," Lucius said coldly, making one last bid for some control over the situation.

"Oh, don't be silly, Lucius," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling once more in delight. No doubt he'd enjoyed how this all played out. "I'll draw up the contract for the Weasleys as is my duty. Now I do believe we have other business -- Aurors roaming about the school looking for someone they will not find. Come Lucius, I'll escort you out. Charlie perhaps you would be so good as to see that young Draco makes it to his first class? Charms I believe."

"Of course, Headmaster," Charlie nodded in agreement.

At Dumbledore's insistence, they all left the infirmary, leaving Charlie and Draco alone. It was obvious that Lucius wanted a few private words with his son, but no one was going to allow that. But rather than wait for the Aurors, and their news of Remus Lupin, Lucius took his leave of all of them, and left the castle in huff. No doubt he was heading home to figure out how he could salvage the mess his son had made of things. Severus couldn't help but wonder how he would explain this to the Dark Lord. Lucius usually landed on his feet -- but this would take some major dancing this time around. He didn't envy the man the experience.


	48. Chapter 48 Wolf at the Door

Chapter 48 Wolf at the Door

Charlie watched Draco as the others left the infirmary. There was a strange pensive gleam in Draco's eyes as he stared at the retreating form of his father. When the door finally closed, the young man turned that blue gaze on him; it was filled with anger, with hurt, and somewhere deep down a desperate hope that somehow Charlie could make this all right. Seeing that look Charlie knew he had a small window of opportunity here to set their future to a course they could both be happy with. No more tricks or machinations, no more knee-jerk reactions to grab what he wanted before someone stole it away. He had to speak from the heart or break something fragile and possibly irreparable.

He pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed where Draco was sitting, and sat down in front of the young man. His mother had always told him that the truth was the only sure path in any relationship, and considering her long years of marriage, he had to guess she knew what she was talking about. He searched for words and found to his surprise that he already knew what he wanted to say.

"When I was twelve years old a fortune-teller told me that I would one day marry a Dragon who was about to be devoured by a wolf," Charlie began. Something flickered in Draco's eyes, but he remained silent.

"Of course," Charlie continued with a wry smile. "At the time I took the prophecy quite literally and found the whole idea a bit gross -- marrying a fire breathing lizard wouldn't appeal to most people. Eventually I realized that she was probably speaking metaphorically. And then I met you and I knew you were the Dragon. And thanks to your father's intervention you were literally about to be devoured by a werewolf."

Draco paled at that, but still he remained silent, listening closely to Charlie's words. Charlie let his gaze move over the young man's form, noting the tense shoulders, the paleness of his cheeks, the bitter frown on his lips. But mostly he saw the lonely confusion in his eyes.

"I asked myself how could I save you," Charlie told him softly. "My family has no means to overcome the Malfoy or Black Conscriptus. Even if you had not been promised to Sirius, your father would never consider me a suitable match. And then the thought struck me that if you were going to be literally devoured by a werewolf, why not simply turn you literally into a Dragon."

Draco stiffened at that, his features tightening as his anger returned. His fist clenched, and he turned his head away either in shame or fury, Charlie did not know which. Impulsively Charlie reached out and covered one of his hands with his own, and while the fist did not unclench, Draco also did not pull his hand away from his touch. He took some heart in that.

"But the reality is, Draco, that the fortune was never meant to be taken literally. You are not a Dragon, despite that gold around your neck. And as coincidental as the situation with Remus Lupin is, he is not the wolf that threatens to devour you. There is a wolf at your door, Draco, a dark and terrible wolf that will eat you alive. Even your father can see it, and in his own strange way he was trying to save you from it by marrying you to Sirius."

Draco had grown still at these words, and looked back at him, his eyes wary. "You mean the Dark Lord," he whispered, sounding both frightened and accusing all at the same time.

But Charlie shook his head. "No, I don't."

Draco blinked in shock at that, confusion filling his face. That was obviously not the answer he was expecting.

Charlie sighed and squeezed Draco's hand once before releasing it. He stood up and paced slowly at the foot of the bed as he tried to find the words to explain what he meant. "A lot of things could happen in the next few years, Draco," he said softly. "This war may drag on for decades with huge losses on both sides. Voldemort might win and kill or enslave all his enemies. Our side might win and kill or imprison all the Death Eaters. Or maybe both sides will completely destroy the world, and nobody will win. But regardless of the outcome of the war, that wolf will still devour you."

Charlie turned and studied the young man. Draco's eyes were wide, watching his every movement, and Charlie knew that he was listening intently to his words. "Just like the Dragon was not meant to be literal, neither was the wolf. The thing waiting to devour you, Draco, is not a werewolf or a dark lord. It's the wolf inside you. The dark thing that made you think that your own father was trying to kill you."

Draco flinched at his words and something horrible and painful filled those blue eyes, and for a moment all Charlie could see was a boy who desperately wanted affection from a father who was not capable of giving it. He could see clearly that the young man understood -- that the wolf that threatened him was the very world he lived in, the coldness, the cruelty, the constant fear that the very people he should be able to trust were the ones most likely to stab him in the back. That wolf inside of Draco would break his soul apart and reshape it into something horrible to earn the love and approval of a man he could never truly please.

Charlie stepped toward him, wanting to offer some comfort even while speaking words he knew would hurt. "Both our fathers were here today," he told him. "You stood before your father and trembled in fear, knowing he would strike you if given the chance. But I knew my father would support me without question. Just as I know that my mother and my brothers and my sister will welcome you into the family."

Draco shook his head violently at that. "No," he denied. "I don't believe you!"

Charlie sat down beside him on the bed. "Oh, I have no doubt that Ron will have a good laugh over this," he flicked the gold around Draco's neck with one finger. "And no doubt you'll be subjected to a good deal of teasing over it, though after your comments to Harry when he was married I suspect you deserve some teasing in turn." Draco's eyes flashed at that, and Charlie couldn't help but smile. "But I also know that if anyone attempts to take advantage of you or tries to hurt you because of this, Ron will be the first in line to defend you. Neither he nor Ginny would stand by and let anyone hurt their brother-in-law."

He could see the wild emotion churning in Draco, the confusion, the disbelief. He could also see sixteen years worth of prejudice warring inside him -- the idea that the family he was about to join was somehow beneath him despite the fact that they could give him the very affection he secretly craved. "You don't understand," Draco sighed. "You don't know what I'll face. Why couldn't you have just. . ."

"Courted you?" Charlie asked and saw by the blush that stained the young man's face that he had guessed correctly. "You and I both know it would never have been allowed."

The bitter frown that twisted the young man's features confirmed that he did indeed know the truth. There was no possibility that Lucius Malfoy would ever have accepted a suit from a Weasley.

Draco closed his fist around the piece of Dragon gold that hung around his neck. He looked up at Charlie, raw emotion in his eyes as he asked the one question Charlie knew he most desperately wanted answered. "Did you have to trick me?"

"I was desperate," Charlie confessed. "Without that gold I had no chance of claiming you. And without the Cedo contract your father would kill me the moment you were free of that gold. Is that what you want Draco? Do you want me to die?"

Draco grew still, his fist tightening around the gold. When he did not answer, Charlie understood in that instant that if he were to have any future at all with this young man, he would have to let Draco make the final choice.

"I'll remove the Dragon gold right now, but you have to ask for it," Charlie whispered echoing the words he had used the night before. "You have to ask for it."

Draco turned toward him, eyes wide and glittering, body poised as if waiting for something.

"I'll remove it," Charlie promised him. "You'll be your father's son again. Maybe your father will still have you marry Sirius. Or maybe he'll choose someone else for you, one of your Slytherin classmates perhaps. Or maybe he'll leave you be and let you live your life the way you want. Either way, you'll never see me again."

Charlie raised his hand and gently stroked the smooth skin of Draco's cheek, lightly trailing his fingertips over the young man's soft lips. Draco was trembling. He slowly closed his hand around Draco's fist where it still clutched at the piece of gold. "I'll remove the gold, but you have to ask for it," he repeated and then waited in dread for the answer, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

Draco swallowed nervously, his eyes flickering with a thousand different emotions. "I'm a Malfoy," he said simply. "We never give away our gold." The slow sweet smile that Draco gave him assured Charlie that with time that dark hungry wolf would flee their door.

----------------------

The sense of relief that had washed over Harry when Hermione told him that Remus and Sirius were free of the demands of the Conscriptus made him laugh in a way he had not done so in a long time. He sat down at Gryffindor table amid the ruins of the Great Hall while around him students and teachers attempted to sort out the mess. He never thought he would feel such gratitude for Draco Malfoy -- never mind the fact that based on his temper tantrum his aid was probably unknowingly given.

Hermione waited quietly while he laughed along with the others, her look toward him one of understanding. But she glared rather disapprovingly at Ron and the other Gryffindor boys. Neville, Dean and Seamus were still giggling uncontrollably along with Ron, though Neville at least was trying to straighten out the mess of splattered food and plates on the table.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron finally said when he realized that his girlfriend was not amused. "You have to admit it's funny. A Gryffindor tricking a Slytherin."

"I suppose you find the idea of having Draco Malfoy enslaved and at your brother's mercy amusing?" Hermione huffed.

Ron sobered immediately, his eyes hardening in a way that surprised Harry. "What are you implying about my brother?" he demanded.

His words took Hermione aback. "What?" she asked in confusion, glancing uncertainly over at Harry. Harry was a bit surprised by the intensity of Ron's question himself.

"Are you implying that you think my brother would abuse someone under his protection?" he demanded.

"Isn't that why you were laughing?" Hermione asked in confusion. Harry watched the exchange in silence. Neville had grown still, and both Dean and Seamus were shushing each other when they realized that Ron was no longer laughing.

"No!" Ron protested, looking as outraged as Harry had ever seen him. Ron turned that outrage on him a moment later. "Is that why you were laughing?" he demanded.

Surprised, Harry shook his head. "I was just relieved about Sirius and Remus," he admitted. Truthfully he hadn't thought of Draco's fate one way or another. So much of his attention had been focused on Remus and the threat of death at the hands of the Ministry that he hadn't be able to think of much else. If Ron had seen Remus lying as still as death in the cold, dark Chamber of Secrets last night, he wouldn't have even asked such a question.

Ron turned toward the other three boys. Neville had sobered as quickly as Ron but both Seamus and Dean looked as confused as Hermione and Harry.

"That's not why we were laughing?" Dean asked uncertainly. Harry had the distinct impression that it was their Muggle backgrounds that was causing the problem once again. The two pureblooded Wizards were the only ones who looked upset, both Ron and Neville seeming shocked by the idea.

"Wait a minute!" Hermione interrupted before Ron could say anything more. "You have to admit that considering the way Wizards treat house elves, is it any wonder I would jump to that conclusion?"

Ron turned on her. "Have you ever seen me kick a house elf?" he demanded. "Have you ever seen anyone in my family kick a house elf? Have you ever seen my father curse any of his children or hit his wife? Have you ever seen any of us torture Muggles or get Dark Marks branded on our arms?"

They had all grown silent by then. "I wasn't implying any of that Ron," Hermione said quietly.

"Actually, Hermione, you were," Neville corrected her. When they all turned to stare at him, the shy boy just shrugged. "I don't know anything about Dragon gold, but suggesting that Charlie would abuse a Dragon he handled or any person or creature he was bonded to magically was pretty much on par with everything else Ron listed."

"I thought you liked Charlie?" Ron exclaimed looking genuinely distressed by the thought.

"I do!" Hermione protested. "But he did enslave someone."

"Well, what are you afraid he's going to do with him? Turn him into the Weasley house elf or maybe lock him in a cage for the rest of his life or take away his wand? Did it occur to you that maybe he has a good reason for doing this?"

Hermione flushed and Harry knew it was because those were probably exactly the things she was thinking about. "What possible reason could he have for enslaving him?" she demanded.

Ron stared at her incredulously. "Well, obviously he likes the little snot and wants him for himself."

Harry knew he looked just as shocked as Hermione did by Ron's words, and the two of them exchanged baffled looks.

Ron just looked more disbelieving. "Don't tell me you didn't notice the looks they were exchanging the other night?"

Harry hadn't noticed but obviously Hermione had. "You noticed that?" she demanded of her usually clueless boyfriend.

"How could you miss it? The little ferret blushed the other day in class. What did you expect them to do? Run away and get married in secret?" he scoffed as if the idea were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Harry, Hermione, Dean and Seamus exchanged puzzled glances. Obviously they were all missing something vital here.

"My uncle eloped," Dean offered helpfully.

"So did my cousin," Seamus added.

"He's the Malfoy heir," Ron reminded them. "If his Head of House doesn't agree then there's no marriage -- no matter what anyone else may want."

"You mean Lucius could nullify a marriage after the fact?" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron just stared at her as if she were crazy. "If he can use Blood magic to kill any member of his house that displeases him, you think something as simple as a marriage will give him problems?"

Hermione sighed and just rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled. "But I still don't see that enslaving someone is the answer."

"You also have a problem with house elves," Ron pointed out as if this explained her position completely. Harry cringed -- this was not going to be pretty.

Hermione's eyes hardened. "They're living creatures, Ron! They do not deserve to be abused and enslaved."

"They're house elves!" Ron insisted. "It's what they do! I mean look at Dobby for Merlin's sake!"

"Exactly!" Hermione shouted in triumph as if Ron had just made her point for her. "He wanted to be free. The first opportunity he saw for freedom -- he took it and ran!"

"And ran straight to Dumbledore and asked to be put to work as a house elf!" Ron finished her statement for her. "It's what house elves do. The only thing they are happy doing."

"He's being paid!" Hermione protested.

"Money he has no use for," Ron reminded her. "House elves don't buy things. He's nothing more than an anomaly with a weird clothing fetish. And don't let the whole freedom thing fool you either. If you honestly don't think he's bonded to Harry, then you haven't been paying attention."

Harry sputtered in shock. "Wait a minute!" he protested. "What do you mean he's bonded to me?"

Ron sighed. "Harry, if you told Dobby to go iron his hands, would he do it?"

Harry frowned and thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, probably," he admitted reluctantly. The elf was oddly eager to please him.

"Then you're bonded," Ron insisted as if it were fait accompli.

"Is that what Charlie is going to do?" Hermione demanded. "Make Draco iron his hands?"

Ron stared at her incredulously. "Has Harry ever ordered Dobby to iron his hands?"

"Of course not!" Hermione scoffed.

"Then why would you think my brother would make Draco do that?"

"Because he's a slave -- an animal!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron just glared at her, and then finally shook his head in denial. "That's it," he stated. "I'm taking Crookshanks away from you. Obvious you must spend all your free time torturing that poor cat in secret."

"I would never!" Hermione shouted in outrage.

"Why not!" Ron interrupted her. "He's just an animal!"

"That would be sick!"

"Exactly!" Ron growled and then turned and stormed toward the doors of the Great Hall, leaving the room.

Distraught, Hermione turned to Harry. "He just doesn't understand!" she cried.

"Maybe we're the ones who don't understand, Hermione," Harry said quietly, and Hermione stared at him in confusion. He was reminded suddenly of the sight of men and women in Bifrost Hall kneeling before him and swearing an oath of fealty to him. With one command he could send them all off to die in a war, and they would go willingly. How was that any different than ordering a crazy house elf to iron his hands? Maybe there was something more going on here -- some deeper, ancient magic that made one person or creature so willing to swear a bonding oath to another?

"Come on, Hermione," he said gently. "Let's get to class. As Dumbledore likes to say, these things have a way of working themselves out."

------------------

Professor Flitwick, who'd been cleaning up the Great Hall with the prefects, rushed into class several minutes late that day. Harry and the other Gryffindors were still in the process of taking their own seats -- the Slytherins on the opposite side of the classroom clustered in a group and whispering furiously amongst themselves. While Flitwick riffled through the scrolls on his desk, the classroom door opened again and Draco Malfoy strode into class. To everyone's surprise, the boy looked as smug and arrogant as he had earlier before his temper-tantrum. And the piece of red Dragon gold around his neck was still prominently displayed as if he were still eager to show it off.

Silence settled over the room when he walked arrogantly toward his usual seat beside Pansy and sat down, seeming for all the world like the same conceited prat he'd always been. The Slytherin students obviously didn't know how to react and just remained unnaturally still. It was then Harry noticed Charlie standing in the classroom doorway. The older Weasley boy was smiling across the room at his brother, and made some vague motion to him with his hand before turning and walking away, letting the classroom door shut behind him.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry had to lean toward him to catch his words. "He's going to marry the arrogant snot."

Harry glanced across the room at Malfoy -- judging by the look on the blond boy's face, he was pleased with the outcome of the events. That still didn't explain the temper-tantrum in the Great Hall.

Apparently no one else knew quite what to say, for Flitwick decided to simply ignore the events entirely and start straight in on the day's lectures. They were studying magical house wards this week, and the little professor began his lecture on the theory.

Falling back on habit, all the students pulled out their scrolls and began taking notes. Harry, for his part, was relieved to have something normal to do after the chaotic events of the last few days. His relief, however, was short lived, when a few moments later the door opened and a red-clad Auror stepped inside.

"Excuse me, Professor," the Auror interrupted.

Flitwick, standing atop his desk where he liked to lecture, paused and stared across the room at the Auror. "Yes?" he asked in confusion.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the man apologized. "I'm afraid I need to ask your students if any of them have seen Remus Lupin recently."

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. They were looking for Remus. That could only mean one thing -- Lucius Malfoy had gotten the Euthanasia Order. His gaze moved swiftly across the room to meet Draco's -- surprisingly the boy was frowning instead of smirking as Harry had expected. Almost imperceptibly the Slytherin shook his head, though what he was trying to convey to Harry he did not know.

Pansy Parkinson held up a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had folded beneath her books. There on the front page was the photo of Harry, Remus, Severus and Alrik standing in the Great Hall. "Everyone saw him two days ago," she informed the Auror sarcastically.

The man glared at her. "Has anyone seen him since?"

There were murmurs around the room as the students all glanced at one another, but everyone shook their heads.

"And you, Mr. Potter?" the Auror asked, turning his gaze on Harry. "Have you seen him today?"

"No," Harry answered honestly. He had not seen Remus since last night. "You're wasting your time here."

"So I've been informed," the Auror agreed, and then gave Harry a somewhat apologetic smile as if to indicate this was nothing personal. "I'm just doing my job." He turned toward Professor Flitwick and nodded his head. "Sorry for the interruption." And then he was gone.

Harry felt his heart settling somewhat, but his thoughts were still on the Chamber of Secrets and the helpless man lying asleep there. The Chamber had remained hidden for a thousand years -- he and Voldemort were the only ones who could open it. The chances that anyone would find Remus were nil. He had to stay calm -- everyone was safe. But he hated the thought that even now, people like Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy were moving against him. Would he ever be allowed a normal life, where he and his loved ones would be left alone?

By lunchtime there were a thousand different rumors floating around the school about Draco Malfoy and Charlie Weasley, none of which Draco had commented directly on -- though Harry suspected he had started some himself. During the midday meal, Draco sat as he always did at Slytherin table looking as if he owned the world -- and under the watchful eyes of the teachers no one approached him to question his behavior. Harry noticed a handful of Slytherin students eyeing the Malfoy heir oddly, their expressions more unfriendly than normal, but no one said anything to him. It was obvious to Harry that they were all confused as to why Draco was not taking pains to either hide the Dragon gold around his neck, or deny the position it put him in. The way he was blatantly flaunting it had left everyone mystified.

Last class of the day was double potions with Slytherin, and all of them made their way down into the dungeons. As far as Harry could tell, the Aurors had left the castle, no doubt to search elsewhere for Remus. He wondered where else they might look -- he'd never asked where Remus lived. He supposed the man had a house somewhere, but he knew nothing about it. He wondered too what sort of job Remus might have if any -- he must have some means of income.

Sitting in their usual seats in Potions class, they were all quiet when Severus entered the room. With a wave of his wand, the instructions for that day's potion appeared on the board. They were to pair up -- Gryffindor with Slytherin, and to Harry's surprise, Ron volunteered to work with Draco.

Harry moved to the table behind Ron and Draco, pairing up with Pansy Parkinson. Students murmured amongst themselves, discussing the potion and dividing up the work -- thanks to Severus' threats at the beginning of the year, there had been surprisingly few accidents this last term in class. As Harry got out his cauldron he listened carefully to the conversation Ron and Draco were having -- indeed more than one group of students were watching their interaction.

"Welcome to the family, Malfoy," Ron said placidly.

Draco froze and turned to stare at Ron, disbelief written all over his face. He said nothing -- just stared as if Ron had suddenly turned into something bizarre and unidentifiable. Indeed Harry felt rather strange himself -- he hadn't expect Ron to act so mature, but perhaps there was some Wizarding custom concerning the addition of an in-law to a family that he didn't know about.

"What?" Ron frowned, looking at Draco when the Slytherin continued staring at him in frozen silence. Still Draco did not respond.

Finally Ron just sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Fine," he snarled. "Welcome to the family, you pointy-faced little ferret. Is that better?"

"Much," Draco sneered back at him. Then he nodded his head in satisfaction. "Thank you, you flea-bitten ignorant weasel."

Ron just grumbled under his breath and went back to working on his potion.

Harry blinked in surprise -- so did Pansy. There were more murmurs of confusion around the room as word spread amongst the students about their exchange. Harry hadn't expected Ron to accept Draco so readily -- they hated each other. And the Slytherin students were beside themselves with confusion -- not knowing at all what to make of this. It would seem to confirm the rumor that Draco had indeed accepted a marriage proposal from Charlie Weasley -- but none of them could understand why.

The gossiping whispers were only allowed to continue for a moment longer before Severus snarled at all of them and silenced the room. Class continued in silence after that -- everyone focused on their potion under the watchful eye of the Potion Master.

It wasn't until class was over and they were all packing up their belongings that Pansy finally started pestering Draco with questions. Harry listened in serendipitously.

"I don't understand, Draco," Pansy was whinging. "What's this nonsense about the Dragon gold all about?"

Draco, knowing he had rather a large audience listening in on their conversation, flipped back his hair arrogantly. "Oh, come off it Pansy, I told you my father was trying to make me marry someone I wasn't interested in," Draco exclaimed as if that explained everything. "Now I don't have to."

The other Slytherin students were all staring at him now. "You're saying that that--" Pansy pointed to the gold around his neck, "--was your idea? Some plot to get out of an unwanted marriage?"

"Obviously!" Draco huffed. "Of course it was my idea. The magic doesn't work if it's not consensual. Don't you know anything about Dragon gold?"

More than one Slytherin looked confused. It was Blaise who shook his head in denial. "Then what was that temper-tantrum all about this morning?" he demanded. "If it was your idea, why were you so angry?"

"Oh, that?" Draco waved his hand dismissively as if it were the most unimportant thing. "That was nothing more than minor lover's spat. It all worked out in the end. He proposed and my father accepted. I've got everyone right where I want them." He gathered up his satchel and headed toward the door.

"But a Weasley?" Pansy shrieked as if not believing he would condescend to marry into that family.

"A Dragon tamer!" Draco corrected in a snotty tone. He lifted the chain around his neck and shook the piece of gold as if to remind everyone that it was there. The red metal gleamed in the torchlight, burning like molten lava. More than one eye was drawn to it greedily. "A rich Dragon tamer, with lots of Dragon gold. Get with the program!" He stormed from the room as if disgusted by their inability to grasp the obvious. The Slytherin students chased after him.

Hermione, who'd been listening in on the conversation, glanced over at Ron. "Charlie's rich?" she asked quietly.

Ron just shrugged. "He makes a decent living," he replied. "But I wouldn't exactly call him rich -- at least not by Malfoy's standards."

Hermione just smirked and shook her head. "Trust him to turn the story around. Slytherins," she sighed, and at the grin Ron threw her, Harry knew that their fight from that morning was long forgotten.

Shoving the last of his things into his own satchel, he waved Ron and Hermione on, intending to walk back down to his quarters with Severus. As the last student left the room he watched as the man gathered a stack of scrolls together from his desk. "I saw the Aurors searching the castle," he told the man.

Severus nodded, his dark gaze sweeping briefly over Harry's body. His expression was unreadable. "They didn't find anything."

"But does that mean they have the Euthanasia Order already?"

But Severus shook his head. "Only an arrest order for an inquiry."

"And Draco's situation with Charlie -- that means Sirius no longer has to marry him, right?" Harry pressed. "Doesn't that mean that Remus--"

"Harry," Severus interrupted him with a frown, holding one elegant hand up for silence. Harry grew still and nervous. There was a strange, tense energy coming from Severus and he didn't know to how to react to it. Was the man worried, angry, upset? He wished he could read the man better -- after living with him these last few months he still knew so little about reading his moods.

Severus shoved his scrolls in a bag and then motioned Harry to precede him out the classroom door. Harry could see that he was trying to find the proper words to say to him, and he walked silently along side the man as they made their way through the dungeon corridors toward their rooms. When they were finally safely behind their own door, and both of them had set aside their bags, Severus motioned to Harry to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. With a wave of his wand, Severus lit the fire, warming the winter-chilled room.

"Just because the issue with Black is cleared up, does not mean things are alright with Lupin," Severus told him. "The man has gone feral -- nothing will fix that except perhaps Slytherin's potion. We cannot risk waking him until we have the potion finished. He has to stay where he is."

Harry sighed and stared down at his feet in disappointment. He'd rather hoped this meant he could wake Remus and tell him that everything was going to be okay -- that the news alone would cure Remus. A part of him had hoped he would not have to tell Sirius what had happened until after everything had been fixed and set back to normal. But now it seemed that was not to be. He wondered what he would do if he were Sirius? How would he feel if he knew that the man he loved was locked in a death-like sleep in the Chamber of Secrets? He found himself starting down at his wedding ring, twisting the golden band around on his finger. "Does Charlie love Draco?" he asked curiously.

"What does that matter?" Severus scoffed.

Harry looked up, staring across at the man. Severus was seated in his usual armchair, long legs stretched out before him in a casual manner, despite the tense energy that seemed coiled inside him. Severs was watching him rather intently with those glittering black eyes, and he found the scrutiny disturbing. "They're getting married," Harry pointed out.

One dark eyebrow raised in amusement. "So?" he asked. "What does that have to do with love?"

Against his bidding, Harry found himself flushing in embarrassment. "Well, I've been told it works best that way -- not that I'd know."

"You Gryffindors are too romantic," Severus mused, eyes flashing.

"And you Slytherin are too. . ." Harry sputtered for words, irritated by Severus' teasing and not certain at all how to take it. It almost looked like the man was trying to wind him up.

"Too?" Severus prompted, seeming interested in what ever insult Harry might have for him.

"Cold!" Harry snapped, leaping to his feet. He couldn't help but think he was being mocked somehow.

"Cold," Severus practically purred the word out and Harry stiffened. Far from looking angered by his insult, Severus looked almost pleased by the word. The man leaned forward suddenly, pinning him with that dark gaze. "'They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all,'" Severus quoted softly, his words sending shivers through Harry's entire body. Harry felt his mouth go dry, and when the man slowly stood up, he stayed frozen to his spot not at all certain how to deal with this strange mood.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Harry," Severus said as he walked slowly forward and stopped in front of him. For some reason Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. "Do you want to learn the art of the sword?"

"What?" Harry asked as he stared up at the man in confusion. Why was he standing so close to him? He smelled nice, like some exotic spice mixed with warm earth. A slow flush of heat moved through Harry's body.

"The sword, Mr. Potter," Severus repeated, a faint smile twisting his lips. How strange that the man smiled so often in his presence now -- four months ago he would have sworn he did not know how to smile.

"You'll teach me?" Harry asked, wishing his heart would stop racing. Severus merely inclined his head in answer. "Okay," Harry breathed.

Something flashed through Severus' dark eyes and he stepped away then, moving across the room. "Good," he said over his shoulder. "Meet me in the Room of Requirement in one hour. We'll begin then." And with a swirl of robes he disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind him.

Alone again, Harry's heartbeat returned to normal. He raised one hand to his face, noticing how hot his skin was. Good lord, he thought to himself. What on earth had that been all about? For a moment there it had actually felt as if . . .as if. . . no, he shook his head. There was no way on God's green earth that Severus Snape had been flirting with him. It just didn't happen.

And then he thought about what he'd just agreed to. The sword? The man was going to teach him how to use a sword? Harry gulped in nervous excitement. Oh, Merlin! What had he gotten himself into now?

-------------

Author's Notes: There were so many responses to the whole Draco issue I don't even know where to begin commenting on them. Perhaps these last two chapters have answered them for me. I knew the issue would be controversial -- I guess that is just a testament to how much we all love these characters.


	49. Chapter 49 Dancing

Chapter 49 - Dancing

Severus stepped into the Room of Requirement and nodded in satisfaction at the environment provided. The room was a close replica of the sword studio he had been trained in -- an open space with padded mats on the floor. One wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and the long tables against the far wall were laden down with every type of sword imaginable. There would be plenty of weapons for Harry to choose from.

Severus strode purposefully across the room and stripped off his outer robe and tunic until he was wearing only a pair of well-fitted black trousers and his white linen undershirt. A wave of his wand warmed the air of the room and staved off the winter chill that clung to the old stones of the castle.

His offer to Harry had been impulsive and probably ill conceived, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Try as he might he could not shake off the lust that had gripped him, could not tame the desire to touch Harry. Since he refused to give in to the lust, he was left with only two socially acceptable means to ease the desire to touch -- dancing or swordplay. Somehow he did not think the boy would be keen on dancing lessons.

He had trained with a variety of sword masters over the years -- some of whom he'd liked, some he'd hated. It was his hope that he could make this a pleasurable experience for Harry, forge some common bond that they could share between them. Merlin knew he had no such hope with potions; Harry merely tolerated that subject. But perhaps this -- something physical that would appeal to a Gryffindor -- would do the trick, and make him think more fondly on Severus. He knew the boy needed some distraction; his constant worry for the wolf and the mutt, as well as the machinations of the Ministry, would drive him mad in time. Severus knew from experience that sword training could often given a person a sense of control over an otherwise chaotic life.

The door opened and Harry hurried in, somewhat out of breath as if he'd run there. He'd gone up to the Gryffindor common room after they'd spoken to work on his homework. Severus watched as the boy took in his surroundings, his green eyes lighting up as he spied the swords on the table. He couldn't help but admire the flush that stained Harry's features.

"Remove your robes," Severus told him, catching his attention.

Startled, the boy stared at him for a moment, bewildered by the order. And then his gaze swept over Severus' body and he noticed the manner in which he was dressed. Grinning in understanding, he began stripping off his outer robes. Unlike Severus he wore a green Muggle t-shirt underneath his heavy winter robes, but the form-fitting black trousers were ones that Severus had purchased for him. Something stirred inside Severus at the sight -- it pleased him to see Harry dressed in clothing he had bought.

"Now you must pick a sword," he urged, motioning to the table. He stood back as the boy approached the blades, curious to see which one he would select.

He stopped first as the enormous, two-handed Scottish Claymores. With a cheeky grin, he hefted one off the table, glancing mischievously over at Severus. The blade was over six feet long, taller than the boy himself and far too heavy for him. He staggered under the weight. Alrik could wield such a thing, but not Harry.

"Predictable," Severus smirked at the boy. "One might think you were compensating for some inadequacy."

Far from being insulted, the boy seemed to know he was teasing, for he laughed and set the blade aside, moving on to the others. He lifted them all one by one, admiring each -- from the Roman Gladius and Spatha favored by many of the younger men in the Winter Lands, to the larger curved Scimitar and Khopesh. There were several different types of fencing foils and he gave each of them a swing through the air several times before setting each aside with a puzzled frown on his face.

He seemed drawn to the Japanese Katana and he admired it for a long time, holding the hilt and drawing the blade slowly from the wooden sheath before turning it carefully in his hands. It was one of Severus' favorite weapons, though the smaller Wakizashi would be a better match for Harry. But eventually Harry set it aside as well and turned finally to the English Longswords.

The boy tried out each of them, his eyes lighting up in delight, and Severus couldn't help but wonder if he had chosen the blade because it was the one he had seen his godfather using. The proper Longsword that Sirius had used was ill suited to Harry, too large for his small frame. Severus was pleased when the boy finally set aside the larger blades and chose instead a smaller version of the Longsword that had been favored by the Templars. He held it in his hands for a long time, just staring at it, before finally turning toward Severus. "This one," he said with confidence.

Severus nodded. "Why that one?" He wanted to make certain that the boy understood the choice.

"It feels familiar," he said simply. "I trust it."

Severus nodded in understanding. "It's modeled after Gryffindor's blade. You killed a basilisk with it. It makes sense you would trust it. Why did you set aside the foils?" Truthfully, Harry's build was more suited to fencing.

"I didn't like the weight of them," he shrugged.

Severus smiled faintly -- it was a Gryffindor trait to want something more substantial in his hands. Still, his final choice was a good one.

"The blade you have chosen is a good one, but it is wise to learn more than one style or you'll become slow to adapt to changing situations. We'll start you with your Longsword and the Wakizashi," he motioned to the smaller Japanese blade. "The two swords use very different styles of fighting, and both will be well suited to you."

"The sword you used was a Longsword, wasn't it?" Harry asked.

Severus raised one eyebrow, pleased that the boy had noticed the blade he had carried. "It's custom made of Wizarding steel," he explained. "If you become adapt at this art you will likely have one of your own made as well."

He motioned Harry to follow him out on the padded mat in the center of the room. "First thing is the Tectum spell," he informed the boy as he drew his wand. He pointed it at the blade the boy held and spoke the incantation slowly so that Harry could learn it. A bright light covered the blade briefly before vanishing. "You'll practice it later -- but you are never to work without the spell until I give you leave to do so, understand?"

Harry nodded and carefully tested the edge, noticing immediately the effect of the spell -- though sharp no amount of pressure against the blade would cut his skin.

"A Muggle would never learn with a live blade," Severus informed him. "A Wizard uses a spell to protect him. Without it, I can guarantee you'll cut yourself. Now, give the blade a good swing, get the feel of it."

He stood back and watched in amusement as Harry swung the sword back and forth enthusiastically. He allowed him to continue for a few moments before informing him of the most obvious but vital correction. "With your left hand, Harry," he smirked. "You're a Wizard not a Muggle. Your wand is your best weapon. It stays in your dominant hand; the sword goes in the other."

Harry blushed in embarrassment and switched hands quickly. He swung the sword far more awkwardly this time. "That feels strange," he confessed.

"It will for a long while," Severus told him. "Eventually you'll learn to use either hand with both sword and wand, but we'll start like proper Wizards." He motioned the boy to face the mirrors and then moved up behind him. "Now let's begin with some simple exercises."

The boy stiffened when he touched him, watching nervously in the mirror as Severus placed his right hand on Harry's hip and slid his left hand down his arm to cover Harry's hand around the sword hilt. The boy had been touched so rarely in his life that even this was an intimacy he did not know how to deal with. "Relax, Harry," Severus said quietly. "I'm going to show you how to move."

He proceeded then to show the boy how to hold the blade, what grip to use, how to stand, where to hold his weight. Standing behind him with his arms around him, he showed him how to swing the blade. The slightest pressure against his hip shifted his weight, and when his legs did not move instantly into the proper placement he nudged them with his own legs using pressure against his knee or his shin to move him.

He ran his hands over the boy's shoulders to force the tension from his body, slid a palm down his spine to adjust his posture, held his hips to turn him as he swung the blade. A nudge from his foot, or a gentle hand pressing along his inner thigh changed his stance and adjusted his balance.

It was a dance all its own, a tactile learning experience that the boy accepted without question. The awkward tension in his body faded quickly as he became accustomed to his touch under the guise of this lesson. He accepted the invasion of his personal space without protest, allowing Severus to position and move him about the room in the slow dance of blade. And while the boy was not a natural swordsman, he had a quiet grace to him exemplified by his flying skills that lent itself well to the exercise. He took to it with an enthusiastic delight that made his eyes glow. Far from avoiding the touch and the attention, after the initial shock of it, Harry drank it in.

Severus could feel the heat rising from Harry's body. The scent of sweat and the smooth glide of Harry's muscles beneath his hands were intoxicating. As Harry gave himself over to the movement, accepting the quiet rhythm of the dance, Severus could feel the steady thrum of magic burning in the boy's body, soothing the gnawing hunger inside of him. It did nothing to sate his desire for sex, but it did ease the need for touch, for intimacy that he had not realized he possessed. It forged a connection between the two of them that Severus grasped gleefully. His godfather should have been the one teaching him this, but he was not here. This pleasure was left to Severus, and he would not surrender it for anything in the world.

Even when he stepped away from the boy and allowed him to move through the dance alone, he could still feel that thrum of magic burning through him, filling the room, his own magic responding on an elemental level. He wondered if Harry was even aware of the power he exuded, or understood on any level why people were so drawn to him. Seeing him like this, his eyes shining with pleasure as he took joy in something simple yet beautiful, Severus suspected he'd forgotten the rest of the world even existed.

"Good, Harry," he praised when the boy successfully executed a graceful turn and a slash with his blade. He stepped up behind the boy, sliding his arms around his body once more, one hand on his hip, the other on his sword hand as he took command of his body. "Now the other direction," he said softly into the boy's ear. "Move with me and learn the feel of it."

Harry shivered in his arms but gave himself over completely to his control. Severus all but purred in pleasure -- dancing had never been so sweet.

----------------------------

Severus rose early the following morning as had become his habit. He wanted to make certain that Harry had the room to himself when he dressed in the morning. The last thing he wanted to do was make the boy feel nervous or awkward in his home -- something he'd been very careful about since the first night they were married.

He drank his morning cup of coffee as he went through some last minute essays he needed to grade, but his mind was distracted and he found it hard to focus. The sword lesson yesterday had gone well -- Harry had thanked him for it afterward, such genuine pleasure in his face that Severus had wondered at the cause. He remembered the evening that Harry had reluctantly thanked him for the clothing he had bought, and he seemed grateful enough for the small additions he'd made to his quarters to suit Harry. But the sword lessons had been something different -- something Harry had embraced eagerly and thanked him without reservation. Once again Severus was left with the thought that some dark episode in the boy's childhood was responsible for this, and he wished he knew what it was. He'd obviously done something right, and he wanted to know what it was so that he could repeat it. Often.

When Harry finally emerged from the bedroom to gather up his books so that he could head down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Severus noticed the cheerful gleam in his eyes. "You're in a good mood this morning," he remarked, wondering if Harry would tell him what was on his mind. It was nice to see the boy happy after so much craziness. He knew Harry was still worried about both Black and Lupin, but the resolution to the Malfoy marriage had eased much of that tension.

"I won't be in the papers today," Harry said simply, as if that explained everything about his mood.

Severus frowned. He knew that Harry did not like all the publicity he garnered -- how he had ever imagined that he did, he did not know; he'd been blind. But he could not understand why Harry would think this now. "You won't?"

Harry shook his head. "Draco will be," he explained. "Because of his engagement to Charlie. That's got to be good for several days worth of gossip. And the Malfoys love being in the papers."

"I suppose," Severus agreed, though he doubted very much that this marriage was something Lucius would want publicized widely. Harry might think that a marriage to a Weasley was a great thing, but Lucius would never see the Weasleys as anything more than commoners who were beneath him.

And then Harry grinned at him, his green eyes practically glowing. "I thought about what I'm going to do to pay you back," he announced.

Pay him back? Severus stared at him in confusion. What on earth was this all about? "Pay me back for what?" he demanded. This had better not be about the clothing again.

"For the sword lessons," Harry explained. "And for the potion you're making for Remus. You do all these things for me and I never do anything for you."

Severus felt a wave of heat rising in him at Harry's words -- equal parts pleasure at the obvious gratitude, and a great deal of embarrassed guilt. How to tell the boy that nothing in the world would stop him from making that potion -- something only Salazar Slytherin had ever done. Or how to tell him that he was certain that he had gotten far more out of the sword lessons than Harry had. Even now the memory of feeling that firm young body against his own was enough to arouse him. That Harry was clueless about his motivation just made him feel guiltier. After only one lesson he had become addicted to the contact -- so much so that he'd made arrangements with Harry to meet three days a week to continue. On the afternoons Harry did not have Quidditch practice, he would meet Severus in the Room of Requirement for sword lessons.

"Harry, you don't need to pay me back," Severus informed him. "We've been over this before."

"I know," Harry assured him. "But I still want to do something. So I'm going to translate the rest of Slytherin's books for you."

Severus blinked in shock, not certain he'd heard correctly. He offered the boy sword lessons -- in a poorly veiled attempt to get his hands on his body -- and in payment Harry offers him first access to the most priceless books in the world. Gryffindors were clueless. Utterly clueless. They should all be required by law to marry Slytherins -- because without someone with some sense of self-preservation to look after them they'd never survive alone in the world. "Harry," Severus began, not knowing how to respond -- obviously he wasn't about to turn down such an offer. But still. . . he didn't want Harry thinking he was obligated.

But Harry just smiled and waved to him. "See you at breakfast!" he called as he headed out the door.

"Definitely need that instruction manual," he muttered to himself.

He finished up his last minute grading and then headed down to the Great Hall himself. He nodded politely to Albus and the other teachers as he took his seat at the head table, and then swept his gaze down the long length of Slytherin table. His snakes seemed well behaved this morning -- Draco was once again the center of attention and seemed to have suffered no fall in standing from his interaction with Charlie Weasley. Indeed he was still proudly displaying the Dragon gold around his neck -- and while it was quite obvious that a large portion of the students were bewildered by this, many looked more envious than anything else. Trust a Malfoy to turn something like this around to his advantage.

He caught more than one exchange of glances between Draco and Charlie, who was seated next to Hagrid at the head table. Charlie still looked quite smug, and Draco. . . Severus just sighed. The blond boy simply looked smitten. Who would have ever guessed that such a spoiled brat would be capable of falling in love? But he did not doubt that it was so. He couldn't help but wonder if Draco had snuck out see Charlie again last night. A wave of envy washed through him and his gaze move swiftly toward Harry. Was it so wrong, he asked himself, to want the boy? But he looked so young -- they all did. Hell, it wasn't so long ago that Charlie had been one of his students, little more than a boy himself. Boys, all of them, and some days he felt so old.

"Something wrong, my boy?" Albus asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Severus glanced at the headmaster, frowning at the question. "I'm hardly a boy, Albus," he said irritably, finding it odd that his words reflected Severus' thoughts so closely.

Albus laughed at that, his eyes twinkling brightly. "Oh, I don't know about that, Severus," he replied. "To me you are all terribly young. It's just a matter of perspective."

Severus sighed and swept his gaze over the student population once more. The Hufflepuff girls seemed to be afflicted with some strange eye disorder, he noticed, which caused them to blink and giggle incessantly. He wondered why there were so many of them looking at him -- they'd been behaving oddly for several days now. It was growing rather irritating, especially since he'd noticed a handful of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors suffering from similar aliments.

The flutter of wings caught his attention and the morning mail arrived in a flurry of owls. Severus' own owl, Paracelcus, dropped his morning paper onto the table in front of him before flying off. Unfolding the Daily Prophet Severus stared down at the picture of his bond mate on the front page. Harry, dressed in the armor of the Winter Lands, was shown once again confronting Cornelius Fudge. Once again the papers were rife with speculation about the state of the Wizarding World and Harry Potter's place in society.

Severus glanced up at Harry. The boy had his arms folded on the table, his head down, face hidden from view. An open paper lay on the table beside him. Ron and Hermione were both talking to him, patting him on the back in comfort -- but Harry looked liked the picture of despair. Severus couldn't help the faint smile that touched his lips -- the boy should have known better.

A quick glance through the paper showed that Draco and Charlie had indeed made the news, though not the front page. Surprisingly there was no mention at all of the Dragon gold. No doubt Lucius had something to do with that; his money had bought more than one editor at the Daily Prophet. Rather there was a brief interview with both Lucius and Narcissa about their son's engagement to a Weasley. While Lucius sounded impersonal and circumspect in the interview, Narcissa had gushed about how the love affair between Draco and Charlie was like Romeo and Juliet. While the Dragon gold was not mentioned, Narcissa did hint that Draco had gone behind their backs to make this engagement -- but that his mother was so overcome with the sheer romanticism of the gesture that his parents had agreed to let it stand. As Severus knew that Narcissa did not have a sentimental or romantic bone in her body, he knew that the Malfoys had spun the story to the best of their ability to minimize any social fallout. Everyone liked a love story after all.

A quick glance at Charlie showed only amusement. The Dragon tamer obviously knew what he'd gotten himself into when he'd chosen a Slytherin. His respect for the Weasley family rose considerably.

Finishing his breakfast, Severus headed down to his office to prepare for his first class. But as he approached the door he noticed a thin, odd-looking man wearing a Ministry badge and carrying a number of very large scrolls. Severus scowled at him, hoping to scare him off before he disrupted his day.

"Excuse me," the man exclaimed. "Are you Severus Snape?"

"Yes," Severus growled. "What do you want?"

"My name is Hickory McFarlen," the man replied. "I'm from the Department of Very Important Persons. I need to speak to you about all your gifts."

The Department of Very Important Persons -- Severus had never heard of such a thing. He frowned in irritation. "Gifts?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," the man nodded quickly, his head bobbing oddly as he spoke. "Headmaster Dumbledore rerouted all your wedding gifts to my office. I've been responsible for going through all of them. I was nearly done, and was going to give you a full accounting." He held up the scrolls he was carrying. "But there was a sudden influx of new gifts -- Coronation gifts for your bond-mate, you see."

"Coronation gifts!" Severus exclaimed in disgust. "He's not being formally crowned!" There were days he despaired at the average intelligence of the population of the Wizarding World.

"No, of course not, sir," the little man hurried to agree. "But you see sir, there's a lot of people sending gifts anyway -- and a lot of requests coming in that I don't know what to do with."

"What kind of requests?" Severus asked warily.

"Immigration requests," the man explained with a smile. "Seems the Winter Lands have suddenly become a very popular location. I really need to sit down and talk with you about all this."

Part of the task Severus had taken on when he'd married Harry had been to keep this sort of madness out of the boy's life as much as possible to give him a chance to finish his schooling in peace. That unfortunately meant he was left to deal with the insanity.

"Oh, Merlin," Severus sighed under his breath. "Next time Albus asks for a favor, I'm running away from home."

---------------

Author's Notes: To those of you who have never taken any sort of martial arts classes you might not be aware of how 'tactile' the lessons can become. One minute you're nodding politely to total strangers taking the class with you -- and the next you have your hands all over their bodies as you help each other learn the various moves. It's not unusual for the instructor to walk around the room touching people -- shoving your hips in a different direction, grabbing your knee or your thigh to change your stance, slapping your back or your chest to change your posture, grabbing your hands or your arms to move you this way or that way -- it's a rather odd phenomenon. Touch, which would be considered rude and unacceptable in any other circumstances, is barely even noticed in the environment of the class. I would like to go on record as saying however that Severus' obvious enjoyment of this phenomenon is NOT common. Like any good Slytherin, he's taking advantage of the situation. This does not happen in 'real' life.

Regarding Harry's choice of swords -- I figured I'd stick with the closest version of the Gryffindor sword from the second movie. It makes sense that a good English boy would be drawn to what was most familiar.

Also, Harry is NOT going to become a master swordsman in the course of this story. That kind of training takes years to master. Severus and those who are skilled in this art would have likely started training when they were 5 or 6 years old. Harry has a long way to go and making him a master in a short time would push my bounds of believability.

Regarding the Remus/Sirius pairing: A lot of people have been asking if the Black Conscriptus would prevent Sirius from marrying Remus. The answer is -- yes. As it stands now, Sirius could not marry Remus because werewolves are considered animals (or at least not pure). This does not prevent Sirius from 'mating' with Remus -- as Severus hinted, mating and marriage are NOT the same. Nor does it prevent Sirius from changing the Conscriptus (as the Head of House he has the right to do this) so that marriage is possible. But to change the Conscriptus Sirius needs access to the Ministry of Magic -- and as a wanted criminal he cannot show his face without being arrested. Obviously for any marriage to take place, Sirius must first clear his name.

Other questions being asked -- yes, every double entendre or play on words concerning 'the art of the sword' was completely intended. And yes, Arthur's statement to Charlie was an intentional paraphrase of Mr. Bennett's comment in Pride and Prejudice (good catch everyone!). Some of the social structure of this society is based on the writings of Jane Austen so it seemed appropriate. And yes, Severus' continued reference of Harry as a 'boy' is very intentional. If you go back and look, he thinks of Draco (and Charlie) as a 'boy' also. But in Charlie's p.o.v. chapter, he clearly sees Draco as a 'young man'. The word choice is deliberate.

And yes, anyone who would like to create fan-art for this story is more than welcome to do so -- I hope you'll forward an URL so that we can all see it.

I'd like to thank everyone for the continued reviews of this story. As you may have noticed we have passed review 3000 -- which is absolutely amazing. When I first posted this story I had no idea it would be so well received. I'm delighted by the response. I also find it fascinating that I have so many non Snarry and non Slash fans reading this story. I've had a number of people tell me that they don't read Slash at all, but are still enjoying this tale.

Deathly Hallows is about to come out. It is my hope that it will not send me into a fit of despair, but one never knows. I'll take comfort in continuing to write this story as all my favorite characters are still alive and well. (Boo-hiss Book 5!!)


	50. Chapter 50 What Dreams May Come

Chapter 50 What Dreams May Come

When Severus had offered to teach him how to use a sword, Harry hadn't known what to expect. He'd been excited by the prospect -- the idea of learning the art of the sword appealed to some primal Gryffindor side to him that he just couldn't suppress. But the lessons had been exciting in more ways than one.

He wasn't certain why Severus had offered to teach him -- in many ways it was out of character for Severus to give up his free time for something like this. That Severus would give his time to him meant more to Harry than he could explain -- that he would teach him so patiently and give him such words of encouragement was beyond belief. Severus' quiet encouragement filled Harry with a warmth he couldn't quite explain.

His entire life he'd tried very hard to earn the approval of the Dursleys. He'd worked hard in school to bring home good grades, hoping against all odds that just once his aunt or uncle would look at his report card and express some sense of pride in his accomplishments. But far from being pleased, any success on his part was met with disgust if not open hostility. To the Dursleys his accomplishments were a result of his freakishness and were to be suppressed at all costs. Eventually he'd stopped caring.

Or at least he'd thought he'd stopped caring. Severus' approval however soothed some deep pain inside Harry that he hadn't known he felt. And despite the time commitment these lessons would put on him, and the muscles that ached afterwards, Harry would not give them up until Severus himself told him he no longer wished to continue.

But the lessons were more than just exercise, and a strange guilty pleasure burned through Harry's blood when he thought of the other side of things. The first time Severus had put his arms around Harry and touched him, he hadn't known what to think. It took only a few moments to realize that this was just the way of things -- that Severus needed to move his body and position his stance so that he could learn the proper exercises. But the constant touches -- the hands against his skin, the pressure of Severus' strong body against his own when he'd moved in close -- it had played havoc with his senses. He'd been married to a man for over four months, had been sleeping beside him, and had recently begun having rather intense dreams about some faceless male, and it was only now he was beginning to think that he just might actually be gay.

Hermione would tell him he was clueless -- or perhaps simply slow and dimwitted. But Harry had very purposely avoided thinking such things -- even after all those embarrassing talks with the various people who felt it necessary that he understand the facts of life. He could still remember the sharp, skin-tingling crush he'd had on Cho Chang during his fourth year. And more than once he'd looked at Ginny Weasley and admired her form and face. And while he didn't like Sinistra, he couldn't deny her physical appeal. Beyond that he'd never thought overly long or hard about the directions his desires might take him -- certainly had never truly turned his thoughts toward men.

Granted he'd been attracted to Julius Snape -- but who wouldn't be, he reasoned. And that had ended so badly, he could hardly count it. Then there was the dream -- he still flushed in embarrassment whenever he though about that dream. The first erotic dream he could remember having and it had been with a male form -- someone tall and strong, well-built if the muscles he remembered were to be believed. But it had been a dream -- and so easily dismissed.

But the way he felt when Severus touched him was not so easily dismissed. The heat that flared through his body, the way his heart leaped and pounded in his chest -- he could not reason any of that away. He didn't understand why the heat of another body felt so good against his own, or why he was suddenly so fascinated by the scent of spice that seemed to cling to Severus' skin, or the way his dark hair looked framed against his face. Or why the sight of that normally cruel mouth curving into a soft smile made his heart flip over in his chest?

The sensations left him uneasy, disturbed, unsettled -- and yet at the same time he looked forward to those lessons with an eagerness that overwhelmed him. He didn't know what to make of the feelings raging inside him, and didn't want to give them up either.

They fell into a pattern over the course of the next week. Harry would have either Quidditch practice or sword lessons before dinner, and then in the evenings after he finished his homework, he'd work on the translation of Slytherin's books while Severus worked in his lab on the potion for Remus. He wrote to Sirius, told him about everything that had happened, and assured him that for now Remus was safe. The press was still haunting Hogsmeade and Harry feared Sirius might risk discovery for the chance to see Remus for himself. He urged him to stay away, and asked Dumbledore to write to him as well urging the same thing. But still he worried that Sirius would do something foolish.

It was while he working on the translation of Slytherin's books that he became aware of another pattern he and Severus had fallen into. He'd been absorbed in his reading, focusing on the strange words of the small leather bound book, when he realized he was being watched. Looking up from his seat by the fire, he saw Severus leaning casually in the doorway of his laboratory, his dark eyes fixed intently on Harry's form. Harry flushed under the stare. This too had become common -- he would find Severus staring at him at odd times, and the look on his face was so intense and introspective he'd grow hot with embarrassment. During the evenings when Severus was working on his potion and found moments of time when he needed to wait for something to boil or cool, he often came and stood in the doorway of the lab to watch Harry while he worked.

"Something wrong, Severus?" he asked when the man continued staring at him.

His words brought a faint smile to Severus' face, his lips twitching upward. "In English please," he said softly.

"Pardon?" Harry asked in confusion. He vaguely heard the sound of hissing.

The smile on Severus' lips was more pronounced now. "You're not even aware you're doing it, are you?" he asked.

Harry had no clue what he was talking about. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. Sometimes he regretted getting his eyes fixed -- he'd never before been able to see the minute shifting of light in a person's eyes so clearly. "Doing what, Severus?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry," Severus' eyes were glittering brightly. "You're speaking in Parseltongue. I can't understand you."

Startled, Harry glanced down at the book he'd been translating. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that this was Parseltongue -- it looked just like English to him, sounded like English. The ability to switch back and forth between the two languages was a vague and indefinable thing. He tried to focus intently on the words he was forming with his mouth -- forcing himself to think carefully on the pronunciation of each individual words.

"Is this better?" he asked.

Severus nodded. "Much. Is it really so hard for you to tell the difference?"

Harry nodded. "It sounds like English to me. It looks like English on the page." He held up the paper where he'd been writing his translation. "I'm writing it in English, aren't I?" When he'd translated the first book he'd had to stop and redo pages constantly because he'd find himself copying them back down in Parseltongue.

Severus crossed the room and took the paper from him, studying his scrawling handwriting. He'd been using a Muggle pencil to write with so that he could erase as he went along, but his strokes were firm and clear on the page. "Yes," he assured him. "'On how to quicken magick in the sleep of death'," he read out loud. "I thought this was a treatise on Light Magic? This sounds more like Necromancy." Severus frowned down at the book in front of Harry.

"It is Light Magic," Harry quickly assured him -- he'd read over this chapter several times before beginning his translation. "It doesn't mean waking someone from the dead -- as near as I can figure out he's talking about the Draught of the Living Death, though he doesn't call it that. He talks about a medicinal potion from Ancient Egypt that he calls the Sleeping Death. This chapter is about how to wake someone from that state."

"The Draught of the Living Death has been around for thousands of years," Severus admitted. "But it was considered a Dark Potion because there was no cure for it. Those poisoned with it slept forever. The antidote for it was not invented until 1475 by a Potion Master named Maraka. Are you saying Slytherin knew of an antidote prior to that?"

But Harry shook his head. "Not an antidote, a spell," he explained. "Slytherin said it was possible to use magic to quicken the life inside someone and wake them from this state. It either required a bizarre aligning of forces or a wizard of exceptional power who was in the right place at the right time to perform the spell." Harry grinned up at him feeling suddenly mischievous. "Actually, I think this is where the legend of Snow White came from."

Severus glared down at him, tilting his head in acknowledgement of the jest toward his own family history. "If you suggest that Sirius Black can awaken Remus Lupin with a true loves kiss, I'm going to be ill."

Harry just laughed at the thought. "No," he agreed. "Like I said the aligning of forces required is extremely unlikely. Mostly this chapter talks about how to sense magic -- how it's possible to feel the magic of another wizard beneath their skin or in the air around them. Like with Dumbledore sometimes -- you know how when he gets angry sometimes you can feel the strength of his magic vibrating in the air around him. Have you ever noticed?"

An odd expression crossed Severus' face at that as he stared down at Harry. "Yes," he finally agreed. "I think I've noticed such a thing a time or two." He handed back the paper to Harry so that he could continue working. He headed back toward his lab.

"Does it bother you?" Harry asked before he could disappear through the door. Severus paused and looked back questioningly. "When I speak Parseltongue -- does it bother you?" After the behavior of his classmates during second year he was a bit self-conscious of the ability.

A strange smile twisted Severus' lips and his eyes flashed in the firelight. "No," he laughed softly, seeming amused by something. "Not at all. In fact, I rather like it."

For some reason Harry felt the blood rising in his cheeks at this statement. He was grateful when Severus returned to his lab and left him alone with his book.

He worked for a while longer, growing sleepy in the heat of the hearth fire. When he yawned the third or fourth time, he decided to rest his head against the back of the couch to sleep for a moment since it was still too early for bed and he wanted to work a while longer. He only meant to rest for a moment, but before he knew it the room faded away completely as the events of the day caught up to him and he slipped off into sleep.

The fluttering of wings caught his attention, and he turned in surprise when a black raven landed on his shoulder. He was standing on a hilltop overlooking a burning city and a second black raven flew through the evening sky overhead. The bird on his shoulder whispered in his ear, urging Harry to walk down the hill and enter the ruins of the city. Frightened, Harry did so, not at all certain he wanted to see what lay ahead.

Strangely he became aware of glowing lines on the ground -- spreading out in every direction and disappearing into the far distance as if they went on forever. These lines were like a great spider web that covered the earth; it pulsed with life and Harry took some comfort in its presence for he could feel no sign of life coming from the city beyond.

He did not recognize the city -- it might be London, he reasoned. It certainly was large enough. But he had seen so little of London in his life -- the Dursleys had never taken him anywhere. Tourist to England who stopped to see the Tower or Big Ben had likely seen more of the city than he ever had, and he wasn't certain he would be able to distinguish any landmarks that would tell him where he was. As it was, the city was burning, fires glowing on the horizon and sending black smoke into the air.

Dread filled him as he approached the outskirts of the city, moving now along a Muggle roadway. There was no movement up ahead -- no fighting or screaming, no one attempting to put out the fires. As he drew closer he understood why -- there were bodies everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Men, women and children lay dead in the streets, dead in the cars that sat unmoving in the crowded roadways, dead in the houses that went on forever. He was in a Necropolis, the city of the dead. Some terrible thing had happened here, some great evil that Harry had failed to prevent. The horror of it overwhelmed him, left him trembling as he stood there on the glowing spider web that seemed to mock him with its brilliant pulsing life. Was there a spider, he wondered, at the center of all this, or was he the spider surrounded by the dead?

And then movement caught his eye. Dark shadows detached themselves from the ground and slid toward him -- creatures with glowing eyes and features that shifted and changed so that one moment they looked reptilian and the next insectoid. But mostly they were just dark, shadows that grabbed hold of his limbs and pulled him away from the burning city. Their touch was pure evil and chilled his flesh, freezing the blood in his veins as he fought to be free of them.

They carried him back up to the hill away from the death and the fire, and there in the fading light of the setting sun, they bound his body to the gnarled limbs of an old oak tree. Ropes cut into his flesh, the rough bark of the tree digging into his skin as they tied him to the oak. When he hung there at last, unable to move, they drew back and laughed. Their voices shook the earth.

"It is ours now," they told him. "No phoenix will rise from these ashes." And then they were gone, disappearing back into the shadows of the land as the sun sank into the darkness.

Alone, Harry hung there on the tree as he stared down at the burning city of the dead. He could feel the life draining from his body, thirst and hunger gnawing at his insides. Blood drained from some unseen wound and he felt something hot dripping from his eyes. The ravens returned, whispering in his ears as they perched on the gnarled branches of his tree, and as Harry listened he opened his mouth and screamed.

----------------------------

Severus had several cauldrons set up throughout his lab, each containing some element of the Lycanthropy potion. He needed to break it down carefully into these separate parts to make certain it was safe at each step. The chance for a cure to Lycanthropy was worth a great risk -- but he would not allow that risk to kill Remus Lupin. For Harry's sake, if nothing else, he had to make certain that the potion would do no harm.

As had become his habit, Harry sat in the living room in front of the fire working on his translation while Severus worked in the lab. Normally, he would have left the lab door closed, blocking out all distractions. But he found that he could not bring himself to do so now -- did not want to block out the distraction Harry had become. Harry did not realize that while he worked on the translation, he talked to himself in Parseltongue, no doubt reading out loud while he puzzled out the words. The quiet seductive hissing did something decidedly pleasant to Severus' body. Yet another guilty pleasure he was allowing himself, he realized -- but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

When Harry had asked him earlier if he'd ever sensed the magic in the air around Dumbledore, he'd nearly laughed out loud. The boy was clueless! Did he not know that his own magic was becoming more and more noticeable the older he got? Severus was growing addicted to the sensation of touching that magic beneath Harry's skin during their sword lessons. Nighttime was the worst, when Harry slept beside him in the bed and it was all he could do to keep himself from pulling him into his arms. Harry seemed to respond positively to his touch during their lessons, and when Severus complimented him the boy all but glowed with pleasure; but to date he had done nothing that would indicate to Severus that he wanted anything more from him.

More and more he found himself studying his own features in the bathroom mirror as he dressed in the morning, trying to find something favorable in his face that might appeal to a young Gryffindor. Harry had found Julius attractive, and save for their coloring, Severus had little else in common with his brother. Even his past lovers had admitted to him that his most attractive feature was his voice. No one would ever write poetry about his face.

He thought darkly about the smug look on Charlie Weasley's face when he showed up for breakfast in the mornings, and the look of smirking satisfaction in Draco's eyes every time he glanced at the red-haired man. And he thought about obnoxious, fourteen-year-old Hufflepuffs doing unthinkable things to each other in the Room of Requirement -- Hufflepuffs for Merlin's sake!

At least, he told himself, Sirius Black was not getting more action than he was. And then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. Black was in the Winter Lands, surrounded by grateful, nubile young witches and wizard who were eager to show their appreciation, and without his wolf jealously guarding his actions, who was to say he was not enjoying himself fully? He grumbled under his breath in irritation -- Gryffindors! He hated the lot of them!

Removing his cauldrons from the heat, he set them aside to cool while he set up his Wizarding microscope so that he could test all their reactions and see if they conformed to Slytherin's notes. The sound of screaming in the next room sent his heart plunging, and he grabbed his wand as he abandoned everything to race to Harry's side.

A glance around the living room revealed nothing dangerous, and he focused all his attention on Harry. The boy had fallen asleep, his books and pencil falling from his lap, and without his Dreamless Sleep Draught, he was caught in some nightmare, screaming as he fought to escape his dark visions. Reaching his side Severus caught hold of Harry's shoulders, shaking him urgently. "Harry!" he called, hoping the sound of his voice would snap the boy out of his vision. "Wake up!"

Harry came awake with a start, his eyes flying open. One look into those terrified green orbs told Severus all he needed to know. He pulled Harry into his arms the way he'd seen Black do the night he'd found him in the library -- the way he had that night in the Winter Lands when he'd awakened in the middle of the night. Harry's hands clutched at him, and he buried his face against Severus' chest, not sobbing, but screaming as if fighting off equal parts rage and terror. Severus, not knowing what else to do, just held him tightly, stroking his back while he tried to murmur soothing words to the boy. His own heart was racing, terrified by whatever it was the boy might have just seen. He had little doubt now that these were visions that haunted him -- not simply dreams. Albus' reaction to the story of the ravens had confirmed as much to him.

Eventually the boy calmed and stopped screaming, but he did not release Severus. Rather he simply turned his head so that his ear was pressed against Severus' chest, listening to his heart beating. He looked almost catatonic, much like he had that night in Black's arms, and Severus was loathed to disturb him, even to find out what he might have seen.

Raising his wand, he summoned a house elf. Like always, it was Dobby who answered the call; since he'd married Harry, Dobby had been waiting on them exclusively, seeming unwilling to allow anyone else the privilege. The little elf wrung his hands in distress when he saw the state Harry was in.

"Harry's had a bad dream," he told the elf. "Go ask Dumbledore to come down here."

The little elf nodded his head and then vanished a moment later. Harry gave no response that he'd even heard the exchange, content just to lie with his head against Severus' chest, his eyes staring at nothing. Severus ran his fingers slowly through the boy's hair. Worried gnawed at him; he was terrible at giving comfort, had no experience doing so. But there was no one else here for the boy.

A moment later, Dobby reappeared, bearing a tray with steaming hot chocolate and a dozen different types of biscuits. "Chocolate is good," the little elf told Severus as he set the tray on the small coffee table near the couch. "Chocolate will helps. Dumbledore is coming."

"Thank you," Severus nodded, expecting the elf to vanish then. But to his surprise, Dobby reached out and gently stroked Harry's shoulder as if carefully petting a frightened kitten.

"Poor, Master Harry," Dobby said sadly. "So hards is it to face the great sleep. Such weights on his head to be facing He-Who-Would-Walk-Alone."

Severus startled at the creature's words, staring at him in shock. "What?" he whispered. He'd never heard an elf say such a thing. "Don't you mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Dobby looked at him with large watery eyes, his ears perked upward. "Elves is knowing a different name," the creature said. "Elves is knowing Professor Snape must not leave Harry Potter. Dobby is not leaving Harry Potter. Not for all the clothes in the world." An instant later, the creature was gone.

Disturbed on so many levels, Severus tightened his arms around Harry, wishing suddenly that he could just shut out the world and keep everyone at bay. He'd known from the start that there were forces amassing against the boy, but he had never felt it so keenly as now. How was he supposed to protect the boy when he could not even keep his dreams from harming him? What possible power did he have to stand against such things?

He heard the door to his quarters open a moment later, and turned his head to nod at the Headmaster as he slipped inside. Albus frowned as he approached, sinking down into the chair beside the couch. "Another dream?" he asked softly.

Severus nodded, and reached out to lift the mug of hot chocolate from the tray. He held it to Harry's lips, urging the boy to drink. The scent of the chocolate seemed to rouse Harry finally, and he drank slowly, finally releasing his death-grip on Severus' robes so that he could take hold of the mug for himself. Some life seeped back into his eyes, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.

"Harry?" Albus called softly.

Harry looked surprised to see the headmaster and blinked at his surroundings uncertainly. He closed his eyes briefly shuddering at some memory, before taking another deep sip of his hot chocolate. "I had another dream," he told them, his voice shaking. "Like the last one with the city of the dead, and the spider web. And the ravens."

Severus heart clenched at hearing that the ravens has reappeared in his dream. Now more than ever he was certain it had something to do with the Eye of Odin. He could tell by the frown on Albus' face that he too was disturbed.

"Could you tell what city it was, Harry?" Albus asked.

But Harry shook his head. "Maybe it was London. I don't know. I didn't recognize it. It was on fire, and everyone in it was dead."

"You saw the bodies?" Albus asked, and Harry nodded in response. "What killed them?"

Harry frowned at that, staring thoughtfully at the steam rising from his mug of chocolate. "I don't know," he admitted. "There were no marks on their bodies. They were just dead."

"And the spider web?"

"Glowing beams of light on the ground spreading out in all directions like a giant web," Harry described, shaking his head as if bewildered.

"Could be ley lines," Albus suggested, glancing at Severus who nodded in agreement.

"Ley lines?" Harry asked.

"Lines of force in the earth through which energy flows," Severus explained.

Harry nodded as if that sounded accurate. "Maybe," he agreed. "But they don't seem to have any bearing on the dream. They don't do anything in the dream. They're just there. There were creatures there this time as well. Monsters, shadows."

"Dementors?" Albus suggested.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Something else. Something worse. They said the phoenix would not rise from these ashes. I felt as if the sun would never rise again."

"And the ravens, Harry," Albus pressed. "Did they speak to you? Do you remember what they said?"

The boy looked up at him then, his face open and sad. "It's not words," he explained. "It's secrets. But I don't remember them. I think in the dream I understand what they're saying, but I don't remember it now." He sighed and touched his forehead, pressing his fingers against his scar. "My head hurts."

Albus gave Severus a look and he nodded in understanding, taking Harry's mug from his hands and pulling the boy to his feet. "Let's get you to bed, Harry," he urged. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Harry did not protest as Severus led him to their bedroom. He used his wand to transfigure his clothes into pajamas. As Harry climbed into bed, Severus reached into the nightstand and removed one of his potion vials of Dreamless Sleep Draught. He lifted it to Harry's lips and held it while the boy drank it down. Then he sat and waited with Harry for the potion to take effect, watching closely as he grew drowsy under the effects.

"Severus," the boy murmured as his eyelids grew heavy, closing against his will.

"Yes, Harry?"

"It sounds like music," Harry said, already drifting off.

Music? Severus frowned. "What does, Harry?" he asked. "What sounds like music?"

A faint smile touched the boy's lips. "Your heartbeat," he whispered, and then was gone, lost beneath the soothing power of the potion.

---------------

Author's Notes:

Before anyone asks I wanted to say that the imagery in this chapter (Harry tied to the tree) has nothing to do with Christianity. You need to search your Celtic and Norse myths for its meaning.

As I said in the very first chapter of this story (in the Notes if you read them), Voldemort is going to earn his title of Dark Lord. He's been very quiet so far in this tale, but will soon return with a vengeance.

I've rather enjoyed writing the interactions between Harry and Severus in these last few chapters -- giving myself a chance to focus on their relationship rather than on all the craziness going on around them. As you can see, they are slowly making strides forward, but they still have a ways to go. Despite the length of this story and all the things that have happened in it, the reality is that Severus and Harry have only been married for slightly more than 4 months. It may seem that they are moving horribly slowly in their relationship but considering that they hated each other 4 months ago, they have made great strides. Severus is slowly growing obsessed, and Harry -- well, Harry at least has finally acknowledged that he has desires -- he's still just working out what they might be.

Don't expect massive amounts of steamy sex (though they will get there eventually!) -- I said from the start that this would be more romance than sex. (Go read my Sentinel fiction if you want more action -- incidentally it's nice to hear from so many Sentinel fans!). Now I'm off to wait for book 7 -- fingers crossed that I'll enjoy it!


	51. Chapter 51 Grand Gestures

Chapter 51 - Grand Gestures

Albus was still waiting for him in front of the fire when he returned from the bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him so that he would not disturb Harry. As he crossed back over to the couch, he saw the sad, introspective look on the headmaster's face.

"They're Odin's familiars, aren't they?" Severus asked as he sat down, wanting confirmation of his fears of the ravens.

Albus nodded. "Yes, I'm certain of it now. I think they are bringing these dreams to him. Trying to show him something, or teach him something."

"And the city -- do you think it is meant to be literal?" Severus asked. "Some city that Voldemort destroys?"

"I don't know," Albus shook his head. "I find it interesting that there were no marks on the bodies. Even Voldemort is not capable of using the killing curse on an entire city of people."

"Poison then," Severus suggested. "Or a biological agent."

"Maybe," Albus shrugged. "Wouldn't it be ironic if after all this Voldemort used some Muggle means to kill so many?"

"Albus, that house elf that follows Harry around, Dobby -- he said something strange when he brought the hot chocolate earlier." Severus could see that he had Albus' full attention. "He called Voldemort He-Who-Would-Walk-Alone."

Albus nodded, seeming unsurprised by the news. "Yes," he agreed. "They've been calling him that now for several months, but they don't know why. I questioned them extensively when I first noticed the change, but none of them seem to know what it might mean. It's what they used to call Grindelwald. They didn't know what it meant then either."

Severus felt a shiver of unease wash over him. "I've never read anything about that in the history books."

A faint smile twisted Albus' lips, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Doesn't surprise me," he agreed. "Very few people ever sit down and have long conversations with house elves, and even fewer still would think to write down their words of wisdom."

"Words of wisdom?"

"They don't think the way we do, Severus," Albus explained. "Non-humans have their own myths and legends, and they're often dismissed because they're considered lesser creatures. Look at centaurs -- they possess intelligence far superior to ours, and yet they are considered beneath us because they choose to live in the wild. I have found that house elves often know things that wizards don't; they just lack the ability to explain any of it."

"And Grindelwald?" Severus asked. "Did you ever learn what the name meant?"

Albus leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard slowly. "Grindelwald was a power hungry madman who preached about pureblood superiority and a return to greatness through acts of genocide. He was like a thousand other madmen before him, spouting the same rhetoric, gathering up the bitter and disgruntled. And then one day something changed. Some new madness gripped him." Albus frowned and Severus watched him intently. The headmaster never talked about those days, and to have a chance to hear something about the war with Grindelwald from Dumbledore's own mouth was a rare opportunity indeed.

"He believed that there was some great secret that would give him the power to rule the world," Albus continued with his story. "He became obsessed with this secret -- with finding it or learning it. Everything else became secondary to it, and he began making mistakes, leaving himself vulnerable to attack. Eventually his followers were captured or killed or disserted him, and he was left to face me alone."

"He never learned this secret?" Severus asked.

Albus shook his head. "No, nor did I. When he died, whatever knowledge about it he possessed, died with him."

"You think Voldemort is after that secret now," Severus guessed. "That maybe it is what the ravens are whispering in Harry's ear."

"I hope not, Severus," Albus sighed. A log in the fire snapped loudly, the light of the flames flickering in Dumbledore's glasses. "I hope I'm imagining things."

Severus snorted in disgust at the likelihood of that possibility. "What am I supposed to do, Albus? How am I supposed to protect him?"

"Believe in yourself, Severus," Albus said simply. "Believe in him. Have faith that things will work out."

Severus shook his head, despair washing over him. "I'm not like you, Albus. I don't see the world through rose-colored glasses. I can't believe in the impossible."

Albus laughed softly at that. "Oh, I don't think you and I are so different, Severus. I'm not omniscient. I've lost my way a time or two." He smiled suddenly, a strange gleam in his eyes. "You weren't here last year when Voldemort attacked. I honestly believe that day that we were going to fail, that I was going to die."

Severus looked over at the old man in shock. He'd never heard Albus say such a thing. Pessimism was not like him.

Albus just shrugged and smiled gently at him. "I went out that day to fight expecting to die. All of us did -- the other teachers, the Aurors, the Order members who came to make a last stand. I'm strong, Severus, but with the Eye of Odin in his hands, I don't think I could have stopped him if there had been a hundred of me. I lost faith, lost hope. And then Harry Potter, flying on a Quidditch broom, saved us all." He grinned at the memory. "I find it odd to think of that great, final battle as nothing more than interlude in something larger, and that Harry's act of bravery has repercussions we are only seeing now with the arrival of these ravens. But all these events have restored my faith, and I can't lose hope despite the darkness I see on the horizon."

Albus gazed into the fire, seeming ancient but powerful, and Severus stared at him, riveted by his words. "There is something terrible coming, Severus," the old man said softly. "I can feel that. All the non-humans know it is coming -- the elves, the centaurs, the goblins, the giants. The world is going to change. And yet despite everything, I have faith that we will endure."

The headmaster turned and smiled at Severus, his eyes dancing. "You're in love with him, aren't you," he stated, catching him completely off guard.

Severus felt his body flush with heat. Albus had asked him a similar question when Harry had been wounded in Hogsmeade. He'd been quick then to dismiss the subject. "I. . .I. . " he struggled to make sense of the chaos in his mind. Love was not a word in his vocabulary -- not something that belonged in his life. Lust he could admit to -- but love? "I don't know."

"Well, when you figure it out, you might consider telling him," Albus quipped, as he rose to his feet. "Love does funny things to people, especially to Gryffindors. We could use more of that in the world." He patted Severus on the shoulder and then headed out the door, letting the portrait swing shut behind him.

----------------------------

Harry was leaving the Great Hall after dinner a few days later with Ron and Hermione when he spied a Grim slinking around a dark corner of the castle. Excusing himself from his friends, he hurried after the dark form, following it down several unused passages and into a dark, dusty old storage room where he found his godfather waiting for him.

Worried, and anxious, but happy to see the man, Harry threw his arms around Sirius and hugged him tightly. Some of that anxiety fled when Sirius hugged him back. "You shouldn't be here," he told the man, when he finally released him. "It's not safe."

"I had to see Moony," Sirius explained. The dark shadows under his eyes and the worried expression on his face spoke volumes. Harry should have known he could never stay away. "The full moon is tonight."

"He won't change," Harry told him. "The Draught of the Living Death freezes everything. He won't even know you're there." He'd done some reading on the potion since they'd given it to Remus and knew that even the power of the full moon would have no effect on the werewolf. Until they gave him the antidote, nothing would affect him.

"I don't care," Sirius shook his head. "I just have to see him. Take me to him. Please Harry."

Harry sighed, but nodded in acceptance. "Meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I'll go get some brooms and meet you there."

Sirius switched forms again and Harry raced off, heading down to the dungeons to retrieve his broom. He grabbed the new broom his godfather had bought him at Christmas as well as his old firebolt so that Sirius would have something to ride. Then grabbing his invisibility cloak as a final precaution, he headed back to Myrtle's bathroom to meet his godfather.

Sirius was waiting for him, still in dog form, pacing back and forth in front of the sink that contained the entrance to the Chamber. There was no sign of Myrtle -- strangely enough even the ghosts seemed wary of the Grim. Padfoot shifted and changed once more when Harry entered, transforming seamless into Sirius. He took the broom Harry handed him and stood back while his godson opened the Chamber. A moment later the two of them were sliding down into the cavern below.

He could tell that Sirius was anxious and upset as they followed the cavern toward the Chamber doorway, and he worried about what the sight of Remus would do to him.

"Did he really go feral, Harry?" Sirius asked as they walked, their feet crunching the tiny bones of dead animals beneath them.

Harry nodded. "He said he lost control of the wolf, that he couldn't get it back."

Sirius turned sharply toward him. "He spoke to you?"

When Harry nodded, a faint smile touched Sirius' lips. "A feral werewolf should not have been able to speak at all. Moony was always far stronger than anyone gave him credit for."

"He told me to tell you that he was sorry," Harry confessed. "Sorry that he made you wait."

Sirius' face tightened and in the faint light of their wands he thought he saw a single tear sliding down the man's cheek. "He's always so quick to blame himself." He shook his head, his mouth hardening into a thin line. "This is Narcissa's fault."

"Narcissa?" Harry asked in confusion. "I was under the impression that this was Lucius' idea."

But Sirius just shook his head. "Lucius may think it's his idea, but I can guarantee Narcissa was behind this. She's the one who put the idea into his head. She's the one who picked me for Draco."

"Why would she do that?" Harry didn't know much about Draco's mother, but he had always assumed that Lucius was the true danger in that family.

"She hates Remus," Sirius explained. "And she wants to punish me. She knows I love him."

"You mean this was about hurting Remus instead of saving Draco?" Harry asked incredulously.

Sirius just sighed. "My family is Dark, Harry. Nothing good has ever come from the House of Black."

"Except you," Harry told him.

Something painful burned in Sirius' eyes. "I spent my entire adult life in Azkaban, Harry. I failed your parents, and now I have driven my dearest friend mad. I can't even provide a proper home for you. Severus Snape had to pick up my slack."

Harry caught hold of Sirius' arm, horrified to hear such words coming from his beloved godfather. "I love you," he told the man. "And so does Remus. None of that was your fault."

Sirius raised one hand to affectionately stroke his godson's hair. He nodded his head, as if accepting his words, but there was still such sadness in his blue eyes. "You're always saving me from the dark places my mind wanders, Harry," he sighed. "That's supposed to be my job." He gave Harry a one armed hug and they continued on down the corridor.

"Why does Narcissa hate Remus?" Harry asked as they walked.

Sirius sighed heavily. "She was in love with me."

Startled, Harry looked up at him. "I thought she was your cousin. Weren't you raised together like siblings?"

A pained-look crossed over Sirius' features. "The Blacks have always been a bit twisted, Harry," he confessed. He shook his head as if chasing away some bad memory. "I used to date a lot when I was younger. But even back then I wanted Remus. But he never gave me any indication that he was interested -- he never seemed interested in anyone. I didn't know about werewolves mating for life. If I had I wouldn't have made so many mistakes."

"What happened with Narcissa?" Harry asked.

"She decided she wanted to marry me, and tried to get our parents to agree," Sirius explained. "I told her no -- that my heart belonged to someone else. She didn't care."

"Would your Conscriptus have allowed such a marriage?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius shrugged. "There's nothing preventing first cousins from marrying. But it wasn't a very advantageous marriage. The Blacks had a lot of money, but they were always looking for more. And marrying me to Narcissa brought nothing into the family. So I convinced them to marry her off to Lucius. I knew he wanted her, and the Malfoys were everything the Blacks were looking for in an alliance."

"She wasn't happy with Lucius," Harry guessed.

Sirius shook his head. "She swore she'd get her revenge on me one day, even if she had to kill her own child to do so."

Horrified, Harry felt a sudden wave of sympathy for Draco. He wondered if the blond Slytherin had any idea what sort of person his mother was. He had always assumed that Lucius was the true monster in that family, but now he wondered about Narcissa. What sort of mother had she been, hating as deeply as she did?

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the Chamber, Harry speaking Parseltongue to open all the doors. When at last they reached Slytherin's library, and pushed open the door, Harry stood back and let Sirius go forward, both their eyes fixed on the bed in the middle of the room. Remus lay exactly as they had left him, unmoved from his position on the bed McGonagall had transfigured. Dumbledore's lantern still burned softly next to the bed, and the warming charms had kept the worst of the chill from the room. Still there was something so eerie about the silence of the chamber, and Harry shivered at the thought of Remus lying down here alone with only the flickering shadows for company.

Harry waited by the door as Sirius crossed the room to Remus. He could see pain in his godfather's handsome face as he sat beside Remus on the bed and reached out to touch the unmoving man's face. He recognized the look of shock that flashed through Sirius' eyes. Remus skin would be cold to the touch, even the blood that should flow through his veins held in stasis by the power of the potion.

"He's fine," he assured his godfather. "It's just the potion. It keeps him frozen in stasis."

Sirius nodded in understanding. More likely than not he probably knew the effects of the potion better than Harry did. The man had once been an Auror after all. But still the shock of seeing a loved one like that was overwhelming.

"My poor Mooney," he heard Sirius whispered. "He must have been so ashamed."

"Ashamed?" Harry asked.

Sirius sighed. "He's always prided himself on his control. Even when we were children he was careful never to lose his temper, never to lose his control over his emotions. The full moon robbed him of all his control so he took pains to hold onto it all the more tightly during the rest of the month. There were few things he despised more than werewolves who just gave up and let themselves go feral. There were few things he feared more than going feral himself."

Sirius reached out and stroked the man's hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. He traced the pale scars on Remus' face. "I should have stayed here with him," Sirius said. "I should have been beside him so I could stop this."

"There were Aurors and reporters all over the place, Sirius," Harry told him. "You couldn't stay with him. He knows that."

"I wouldn't have married the Malfoy boy," Sirius swore.

Harry frowned at that, shifting uncertainly in the doorway. "Wouldn't your Conscriptus have forced you to?" Had they gotten it wrong, he wondered.

Sirius just shrugged. "I still could have refused."

"Then Lucius would have had you removed as Head of House and Bellatrix would have used Blood Magic to kill you."

Sirius looked up, his blue eyes practically glowing in the dim light. So fierce was his expression that Harry wondered if maybe his godfather had been a bit feral all his life. "I'm strong, Harry," he said. "Magically, I mean. Really strong. I could have fought the Blood Magic."

Harry remembered the stories in the paper during his third year about the feared murderer Sirius Black. People had whispered about him in terror, saying he was the strongest of Voldemort's servants. They believed he could kill dozens of people with a single spell alone. After learning the extent of the power distribution in the Wizarding World, he was beginning to understand what people really meant when they spoke abut powerful wizards.

"Severus implied that the Blood Magic was something really powerful," Harry told him. "Could you have defeated it?"

"I don't know," Sirius admitted, though the ferocity did not leave his eyes. "But I could have tried. I'd do anything for Remus, even die."

Gryffindor bravado -- they were all guilty of it. Harry was beginning to understand why it might bother Severus so much.

"Can we all stop talking about dying and just decide to live for each other instead," Harry said in exasperation.

His words startled Sirius and he stared across the gloomy room at Harry for a long moment before a slow smile spread over his face. "Now, you sound like your mother," he laughed softly. "She used to hate to hear James talk about that sort of thing as well." A wistful gleam took the smile from his face. "I often wondered if she had a touch of foresight sometimes."

He smiled back at Harry, his mood seeming mercurial. "She used to call you her little prince, and now here you are King of the Winter Lands."

Harry groaned at his words. "Oh, God, don't call me that," he protested. "It doesn't mean anything -- not really. And I get enough teasing from the other students. Lavender Brown is trying to get all the girls to curtsey when they see me -- though Ginny and Hermione explained that it had more to do with how the curtsey showed off their legs than with me."

Sirius laughed at that, an odd sound in the grim chamber. "Then they're obviously not doing it properly. A proper curtsey should not reveal any leg at all."

"Really short skirts," Harry said simply, thinking of the school uniforms the girls all favored. Of course right now most of them had their legs covered up with heavy winter tights, but the form was still quite visible if not the skin.

Sirius chuckled and then grew thoughtful again. "It is what they call you, you know."

"What?"

"King of the Winter Lands," Sirius explained. "Brand's people seem to like the idea. Even the highborn in that land have embraced the concept. They've stopped whispering in terror about You-Know-Who and have begun speaking openly about their king. You seem to have given them back their courage."

Harry wasn't certain how to respond to that. "I don't want to be anyone's king, Sirius. I don't want power. I don't want to be involved with politics or the Ministry."

"I know, Harry," Sirius said gently. "While I was there they asked me for help reclaiming their farms. As the Dementors grew more numerous, they had to abandon their farmland. Over the years they've become dependent on purchasing food from the Muggle world -- something they've all hated. Now they're determined that come spring they will replant all their old crops and live independent of the Muggle world once more. So they are going back to their farms and chasing off the Grendlings that have taken over. And they asked me to help them fight. Over and over people kept coming to me and asking if they thought you would approve of their accomplishments, if you would be proud of what they were trying to do."

Harry shivered at his words, finding himself choked up at such a thought, that anyone would care if he were proud of them.

"I don't think they care about politics or rules and regulations, Harry," Sirius told him. "I think they just want to know that the boy who saved them was proud to have done so."

"I didn't save them alone, Sirius," Harry reminded him, emotion welling in his chest. "They saved themselves."

"Ah, but don't you see, Harry," Sirius smiled. "That's exactly what they expect a king to do - inspire a people to save themselves."

To that Harry had no response. He just shifted uncomfortably in the doorway at a loss for words.

"Do you mind if I transfigure a few things?" Sirius asked suddenly, his mood changing once again to something almost playful.

"Why would I mind?" Harry asked in confusion.

"It's your chamber," Sirius reminded him.

"It's Slytherin's Chamber," Harry corrected.

But Sirius just shrugged dismissively as if that fact were unimportant. "It's yours now."

"Go ahead," Harry told him, not wanting to argue the point.

Sirius leaped off the bed and began rifling through the pockets of his coat. He pulled out a handful of knuts and sickles along with his wand. As Harry watched, the man proceeded to transform the coins into various pieces of furnishings from plush chairs to carpets and tapestries. He seemed intent on decorating the room in bright, cheerful colors so that it resembled the Gryffindor common room.

As he worked, Harry found himself analyzing the man's magic. He'd seen Dumbledore and McGonagall do the most transfiguration work in his life. Both of them seemed capable of transfiguring anything -- evening pulling things literally out of thin air. McGonagall had explained that they were in fact doing exactly that -- transfiguring the very air molecules into something new. It was one of the hardest forms of magic to master.

Harry for his part was merely average at such things. Certainly Hermione far surpassed his skills no matter how much he practiced. Watching Sirius now he could see that the man had not been boasting when he said he was strong. While his tapestry was a bit lopsided and his carpet had a rather obnoxious color to it -- more orange than red -- he seemed to do it all with relative ease.

Harry found himself thinking about Slytherin's notes on feeling the magic in another Wizard, and impulsively he tried to reach out with his mind to sense Sirius' magic in the air.

He felt it almost at once, a vibrant energy filled with bright pulsing explosions of inspiration and life. Granted there was something almost manic to it, as Harry sensed Sirius was attempting to distract himself from the man lying as if dead on the bed in the center of the room.

Unbidden Harry turned his focus toward Remus and found to his surprise that he could feel him as well. But this time there was no movement to the energy. It was still and dormant as if simply waiting for the single beat of a heart to bring it back to life. Could he do it, he wondered. Could he send some of his own energy into that stillness and force it awake, quicken the life back into Remus' veins?

"What do you think?" Sirius' voice snapped him out of his musings and Harry shivered at the thoughts running through his head. He'd spent too much time reading the Serpent's notes if such crazy thoughts were the results.

"What?" he asked his godfather.

"The room," Sirius clarified waving his hand around to display his handwork. "Do you think he'd like it?"

Harry stared at the slightly off-colored version of the Gryffindor common room -- he spied a Muggle whoopee cushion on one of the chairs, along with a complete set of dribble glasses. And the painting on the far wall was supposed to depict a gathering of some of the noble members of Gryffindor house, not a group of dogs playing poker. One of the dogs looked remarkably like Padfoot. Harry smiled -- always the practical joker. "You forgot the books," Harry said. "Remus would never love a room unless it had books."

"You're right, of course," Sirius agreed and tossed another knut down on the ground so that it rolled against a wall. With a wave of his wand he created an enormous bookcase filled with books. Harry frowned. The books were all identical -- same exact shape and size. He pulled one off the shelf.

"The Karma Sutra?" he mused, giving his godfather an impish look.

Sirius just shrugged. "Hope springs eternal." When Harry opened the book he noticed that the pages were blank.

"I've never been able to conjure books," Sirius admitted. "Just the shapes. Remus can conjure up any book he's ever read. He's always been brilliant." A fond smile crossed his lips as he gazed back down at the sleeping man.

"He'll be fine, Sirius," Harry assured him. "We should go. It's getting late."

"I think I'll stay here tonight," Sirius told him as he approached the bed.

Harry balked at the idea. He couldn't risk leaving the doors to the Chamber open, not with the Ministry still looking for Remus. And once they were closed, Sirius would have no way to escape the Chamber if something happened.

"I'll be alright," Sirius assured him when he saw the look on his face. "You can come back for me in the morning."

"But Sirius he won't wake up," Harry reasoned.

"I know," Sirius nodded. "But there's a full moon tonight and I promised him I would always be with him on the full moon. I'm not going to break that promise. I've missed too many moons as it is."

Faced with such a statement, Harry knew there was no point in protesting. He just nodded in acceptance and watched sadly as his godfather transformed once again into Padfoot. The black dog leaped up onto the bed and lay down beside Remus, resting his furry head on Remus' stomach.

"Good night, Padfoot," Harry said softly, and left the two of them alone.

When Harry returned to his rooms, he noticed the door to Severus' lab standing open. Normally by this time of night he would have been ensconced on the couch working on his translation while Severus worked on the potion. He moved to the laboratory door to tell Severus that he was back. The man was busy stirring the contents of a small iron cauldron when he entered the room, three other cauldrons sitting off to one side filled with various fluids.

"You're late," Severus informed him, though his tone lacked the derision it would have held a few months ago.

"Sirius showed up," Harry explained. "I took him down to see Remus."

He saw Severus stiffen at that, his features tightening with some emotion. He wasn't certain what part of that bothered him -- the fact that Sirius was back in the castle, or the fact that Harry had gone back down to the Chamber. "Is he still here?"

"He stayed in the Chamber," Harry told him. "He wanted to stay with Remus. The full moon is tonight."

The man looked up in surprise at that. "The man is catatonic," he exclaimed, and now Harry could hear the derision. "He won't even know he's there. What's the point?"

"It's Gryffindor sentimentality," Harry said defensively. "We're big on grand romantic gestures."

Severus snorted in disgust, shaking his head at the thought. Harry felt a flare of annoyance at his reaction. "Yes, I know what you think of such things," he snapped. "You don't have to say it."

One dark eyebrow rose in mocking amusement. "Indeed?" Severus asked. "You know what I'm thinking, do you?"

Harry smirked at him, folding his arms across his chest. "I can make a good guess," he nodded, then adjusted his stance so that it more closely resembled Severus', and though lacking the proper height, he attempted to look down his nose at the man. He couldn't mimic Severus' voice -- few people had a voice like his -- but he gave it his best shot. "Really, Mr. Potter, such sentimentality is valued only by fools. But as there is so little difference between fools and Gryffindors I can see how you would be confused."

Severus' lips twitched upward, his dark eyes gleaming. "And no doubt you would respond with some snide insult to Slytherin about how we have no romance in our souls and wouldn't recognize a grand gesture if one bit us on our overly large noses."

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed out loud, unable to hold his 'Severus-scowl' any longer on his face. Amused, Severus picked up a jar of flobberworms and a large knife, placing them down on the edge of his worktable nearest Harry. "Cut up those flobberworms," he ordered. "There's your grand, romantic gesture."

"Slytherins!" Harry just sighed in protest, but still smiling, he picked up the knife and got to work.

-----------------------

Author's Notes: Well, I've finished Deathly Hallows, and was actually rather pleased with it. Of course I hated all the deaths (some more than others), but I knew JKR was going to kill people so I sort of expected them. But unlike book 5 and 6, this book had a lot of substance -- the big revelation at the end of the book was nicely laid out, clues guiding our way, and the payoff was worth it. My only major gripe (besides all the deaths of course) was the odd punctuation throughout the story -- but that may have been an editor's fault.

Needless to say this story is now REALLY an AU. I don't intend to incorporate anything from book 7 in this story -- and in case you're wondering, Dumbledore's reference in this chapter to the big 'secret' that both Voldemort and Grindelwald were looking for has nothing to do with the Deathly Hallows.

In the next couple of chapters of this story I'm going to move time on a bit again (I did that earlier in the story too). There are some very major plot points about to come to a head in the story -- scenes I've been planning since I first starting writing this tale. Some of these scenes are 'big' so I'm hoping I do the image in my head justice. Bare with me as I write them down.

Sorry this update was so long in coming -- I've been 'processing' Deathly Hallows.


	52. Chapter 52 Valentine

Chapter 52 - Valentine

Draco Malfoy and Charlie Weasley were married on Valentine's Day. At the request of the Malfoys the ceremony was small and largely unpublicized, attended only by the immediate family. Albus arranged for the gathering to be held in the Room of Requirement that evening, with a private family dinner to follow, courtesy of the Hogwarts House Elves. The room itself looked like a spring-time garden -- a pleasant change to the winter snow still on the ground outside the castle.

Albus, Severus and Harry along with the nine Weasleys were already waiting in the room when the Malfoys arrived. Lucius and Narcissa entered side by side, both elegantly dressed in formal robes that probably cost more than Arthur made in a year. The string of diamonds around Narcissa's neck could have purchased the Burrow and everything in it ten times over. But wealth aside, both looked unhappy. Narcissa, while beautiful and nearly unchanged since her own school days, had a pinched, arrogant sneer on her face that stood in stark contrast to the rosy-cheeked grin on Molly's face. Draco, trailing behind his parents in equally fine robes of Slytherin green, was nearly expressionless, only the sparkle in his eyes giving any indication that he was pleased to be there.

While the two elder Malfoys were obviously unhappy about the event, the Weasleys were all in good spirits. Though it was evident that Charlie's choice in mates had surprised them, the idea of a marriage and a new member of the family was clearly a joyful one for them. Molly actually shocked a rather baffled Draco when she gave the boy a warm hug, and then proceeded to straighten out his hair and robes that she'd ruffled. It was obvious from the look of utter shock on Draco's face that he had no idea how to deal with such behavior -- a fact that made both Ron and Harry snicker in amusement. Again in contrast to the greeting Draco got from his new family, Charlie rated no more than a sneer from Narcissa.

Lucius paused beside Severus while Draco attempted to introduce his mother to the rest of the Weasley clan. "I thought this was to be immediate family only," Lucius remarked, glancing briefly at Harry who stood beside Ron.

Severus merely shrugged, having no intention of apologizing for his presence. Truthfully, neither he nor Albus trusted the Malfoys alone with the Weasleys. "They consider Harry a member of the immediate family."

Severus noted the odd look of speculation that flickered through Lucius' eyes at that. The idea that he was joining the Malfoy family to the Weasleys was probably unbearable -- but Severus suspected that the pain was mitigated somewhat by the idea that Harry Potter was considered a member of the immediate family. No doubt Lucius would twist this to his advantage, hinting to the public that he had been more interested in the union with the Potter-Snapes than the Weasleys.

After the initial greeting Lucius insisted on seeing the wedding contract. Dumbledore had done a masterful job on the contract, and before the official ceremony could begin Lucius made a point of going over each line of the document. He argued some points, tried to change things to his advantage time and time again, but there was little room for compromise in the Cedo documentation. Still there were some minor points that were at the discretion of the two parties, and Charlie indicated that he was willing to discuss those openly.

Curious about what Lucius might try, Severus watched the negotiation closely. He knew that Charlie Weasley did not have a background in Wizarding Law. And while Arthur worked in Law Enforcement, legal contracts were not his area of specialty; young Percy who stood eagerly by likely had a more deep understanding than the rest of his family. Were it not for Dumbledore watching the procedure, Severus might have worried that Charlie would get himself in trouble entering any sort of negotiation with Lucius. But it became apparent very quickly on that Charlie had been coached in what to say. He seemed to know before hand every point Lucius would bring up, and had a counter to each suggestion -- a flat out refusal of some points and a compromise for others that would not truly relinquish any power.

Baffled by Charlie's apparent aptitude in this matter, Severus turned his attention to Draco. While Draco was quiet and subdued, unwilling to meet his father's stern gaze, Severus noticed several times that a look of triumph crossed the boy's face when Charlie countered certain points. He realized suddenly that Charlie's coaching had come from the very Dragon he had tamed -- Draco had warned him before hand every point his father would bring up, and told him how to counter it.

While it was obvious that Draco lacked the courage to outright challenge his father himself, Charlie had no such fear and did so almost gleefully. Severus found himself chuckling softly -- Charlie and Draco would make a very formidable pair. Nor, he suspected, would their relationship be anywhere near as unequal as the contract implied -- Draco obviously had the skill and intelligence to manipulate things from behind the scenes, and Charlie seemed not only content but rather pleased to let him. Severus smirked -- Lucius never really stood a chance against the pair.

The ceremony itself was short and simple, performed again by Albus. In form it was rather similar to the ceremony Harry and Severus had participated in, though this one ended in a rather passionate kiss between the two young men in question. Molly Weasley burst into tears at the sight and began dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief given to her by her husband. Across from her a rather cold looking Narcissa Malfoy sniffed disdainfully in her direction.

During the ceremony Severus found himself glancing over at his own bond-mate. Six months ago they'd been in the exact same position as Charlie and Draco and had both forgone the traditional kiss -- appalled by the very idea. Severus wondered now what he would do in the same situation. He doubted he'd pass up the opportunity to kiss the boy with impunity if given the chance -- public or not. But what would Harry's reaction be? The boy was staring rather curiously at Draco and Charlie, faint color high in his cheeks. Was he imagining them in the same position, Severus wondered?

Severus raised his hand and touched the crystal pendant that hung around his neck -- the stone was well hidden under his clothing, but he could feel its powerful presence against the skin of his chest, reminding him constantly that it was there. His mind drifted back to the moment he'd seen it, the moment he'd touched it, and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, what it meant. Like everything associated with Harry Potter, it left Severus unsettled and confused.

He'd been a bit leery of the traditions of Valentine's Day. Albus tended to overdo the decorations around Hogwarts, and the student body was more than happy to indulge in the odd gift giving traditions that came with the celebration. As a married man Severus knew he was expected to get something for his bond mate -- it was tradition after all. Even in arranged marriages, such courtesies were not ignored. And so that afternoon after class he'd presented Harry with a large box wrapped in Gryffindor-red paper.

It was doubtful he'd ever forget the look on Harry's face when he'd seen the box. No doubt Ron or Hermione had informed him that tradition and duty would compel him to give him something -- but he suspected the boy had been expecting one of the silly cards sold down in Hogsmeade rather than the large box he'd received.

Severus had watched in amused silence as the boy had opened the gift, and had felt a wave of immense satisfaction wash over him when a look of delight had crossed Harry's face. The coat he'd presented him with had been truly spectacular. Severus had commissioned its creation in January after they'd returned from the Winter Lands, and knew Harry was unlikely to receive many gifts in his life quite like this one.

The coat was beautiful -- a high mandarin collar, tailored at the shoulders and chest, tapered neatly at the waist and flaring out at the hips to a knee length. But it was the material that made this coat spectacular. While the under side was made of the toughest Dragon skin, the out layer was Basilisk scales -- taken from the very creature Harry had slain in the Chamber of Secrets. The Dragon skin would turn back just about any blade, but had little protection against spells. The Basilisk skin was less tough against blades, but could deflect all but the strongest of spells. The black scales picked up the light and glittered with an array of colors making the coat not only functional armor, but a work of art as well. It was tailor-made to Harry's measurements, but had been well spelled to adjust if he grew or chose to wear a suit of armor beneath it.

Harry had never been vain or obsessed with any of the clothing Severus had bought him, but the Gryffindor in Harry had been utterly enthralled by the coat. He'd pulled on the coat immediately and had run to the mirror in their bedroom to admire it -- Severus had followed along behind him with a pleased smile on his face.

"Wicked!" the boy had proclaimed as he'd admired himself in the mirror -- high praise indeed. The sense of satisfaction Severus had felt at having his gift so well received had caught him quite by surprise -- he shouldn't feel this pleased by something so trivial. But the sight of Harry wearing that coat, eyes bright with pleasure, had done things to Severus' insides that he couldn't quite explain.

The boy had surprised him a few moments later when he'd pulled a small box out his trouser pocket and handed it over to Severus -- it too was wrapped in the traditional red paper. "This is for you," the boy had said, his face somewhat flushed. "But it's nothing as cool as this coat. I didn't know what else to get you." He shrugged apologetically, his tone denigrating whatever lay hidden in the box. It was obvious that he did not feel his gift adequate to the gift Severus had given him.

Amused at the idea that the boy had gotten him anything, Severus pulled off the paper. He wondered who had helped him pick out the gift? Hermione most likely -- the thought of the Gryffindors discussing what an appropriate Valentine's Day gift for their dour Potion Master would be amused Severus far more than it should have. No doubt there would be some odd potion ingredient in the box -- or perhaps the boy had gone the humorous route and bought him a heart-shaped snitch as a joke.

His breath caught in shock when he'd finally pried off the lid of the box and seen the object resting there. At first glance it looked like a precious gem -- but Severus had seen enough of these to know what he was looking at. It was a Heart Stone -- Harry's Heart Stone to be exact.

All sixth year students were required to produce a Heart Stone -- it was a project they began at the beginning of the year in Transfiguration class, and finished in Charms class. The students worked on them on and off during the first half of the year in the various classes. Typically the sixth-year Heart Stones were all completed by early February and were a favored Valentine's Day gift amongst the student population.

This was the students' first introduction to the art of making a Magical Artifact -- a skill very few Wizards or Witches had any talent for. Needless to say most Heart Stones were worthless save as keepsakes amongst lovers or family members. Those who lacked a sweetheart to give their stone to typically gave them to their mothers. Severus' own sixth-year Heart Stone -- a rather odd looking amethyst that suffered from an unfortunate crack in the middle -- was locked away in a dusty box somewhere in his bedroom, of little value to anyone save for the passing grade he'd received at having completed it. He'd had no one to give it to.

The stones themselves had little power -- they were designed simply to hold the magical signature of the Wizard or Witch who had made it. Harry's stone was unique. The majority of the stones were little more than crystals -- they were all made from a lump of coal, transfigured during a long series of Transfiguration classes. Some Wizards and Witches managed true precious gems -- rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, amethysts -- though that required a great deal of magical control that most sixteen year-olds did not possess. Hermione Granger had managed a rather impressive looking sapphire according to McGonagall, and Draco had produced a rather attractive looking garnet.

At first glance Severus would have said that Harry's was an emerald -- but the color was not quite right. The flawless crystalline structure of this stone was a far darker green than any emerald he'd ever seen, and there were lines of ruby red running through the stone that no emerald had ever possessed. He would have said that the ruby color was a flaw in the crystalline structure -- but he could see no cracks in the stone at all; the stone looked perfect.

But the true shock had come when Severus had touched his finger to the stone, seeking out Harry's magical signature. He'd touched enough such stones -- the Slytherins loved to show him their accomplishments year after year. He knew what to expect from contact with these stones. But the sense of presence he'd felt when his fingers had made contact with the surface of the stone was unlike anything Severus had ever before experienced. Touching this stone was like touching Harry's magic -- as if it were a raw current flowing into him. He was reminded sharply of that night after Remus had gone feral when Severus' own control had broken and he'd kissed Harry in his sleep. He'd been able to feel Harry's magic humming beneath his skin, and he had grown intoxicated on the sensation of power. This felt like Harry's wild magic -- the uncontrollable surges that broke free of the boy's control and often sent the world around him into chaos. Somehow, Harry had managed to capture all of that sensation -- that Presence -- within the confines of this Heart Stone. While the stone itself might have no actual power -- no ability or task for which it could be used -- it was a true magical artifact.

"I know it's silly," Harry had said apologetically as Severus had stood there in silence staring down at the stone in his hand. "But everyone said it was a traditional Valentine's Day gift for sixth years. I was going to get you a book, but Hermione said this would be better. If you don't like it I can still get you that book. . ." he broke off anxiously.

"No," Severus interrupted immediately, moved beyond words. "This is. . .this is. . ." he shook his head uncertainly. "I'm honored," he admitted at last. "But are you sure you want to give this to me? Are you sure you wouldn't prefer that it go to your godfather?" Even the least impressive of Heart Stones were not given away casually. Lacking a lover, Wizards kept the stones within their family so that they could later be embedded in a gravestone when death finally came so that centuries later a Wizard's magical signature could still be felt.

An odd look had crossed Harry's face. "Why would I give my godfather a Valentine's Day gift?"

Severus had shaken his head again. "Not for Valentine's Day," he'd corrected. "I meant the stone. Heart Stones are typically kept within families."

Harry had grown still at that, his expression oddly shuttered. "We're family, aren't we?"

It wasn't the first time Harry had suggested such a thing, but it was the first time he'd asked for confirmation from Severus. Faced with such an intense look from those green eyes, all Severus had been able to do was nod, unwilling to deny any claim Harry might wish to make on him. If the boy wanted them to be family, then who was Severus to deny such a bond? He was coming to realize that he wanted the bond -- wanted it more intensely than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

"Thank you," he'd said instead, his hand tightening around the stone.

The shuttered expression had lifted from Harry's face and he'd grinned at him. "Thank you for the coat," he replied happily. "It's brilliant! I want to go show it to the guys in the Tower!" He'd raced off then to show off his coat, obviously satisfied that their Valentine's Day exchange had gone well. Severus had been left alone in his bedroom, holding tightly to a stone that all but sang with Harry's power.

Later, while staring intently at the green coloring of the crystal and the strange ruby strands woven throughout the structure, he found himself thinking that there was something oddly familiar about it, as if he'd seen something similar somewhere else. A thought occurred to him -- an odd, disturbing thought that he'd dismissed almost immediately as a flight of fancy. But then again, around Harry nothing could be taken for granted. He knew he'd have no choice but bring the subject up with Albus later.

Unwilling however to be parted from the stone, Severus had fixed a chain to it and had slipped it around his neck. Slipping it under his tunic, he let the stone rest against the skin above his own heart. It felt as if he were carrying a small piece of Harry around with him -- such a ridiculous romantic notion, he thought, thoroughly disgusted with himself. But it still didn't stop him from wearing the thing.

He found himself somewhat comforted by the fact that Harry had opted to wear his gift as well. Standing beside him at the wedding ceremony, the black scales of the coat catching the magical springtime sunlight that lit the room, Harry looked elegant, his slender form drawing more than one eye in the room. Severus hadn't missed the looks Lucius had given the boy -- he caught the moment when Lucius' eyes had narrowed as he'd finally figured out what animal had produced such scales. He'd shot a look at Severus, and Severus had merely raised one eyebrow in mocking salute. Lucius had been largely responsible for the presence of the Basilisk in Hogwarts -- an event that had nearly resulted in the death of the only daughter of the family his son was marrying into. Under the circumstances, even Lucius Malfoy knew when to keep his mouth shut and his opinions to himself.

At the end of the ceremony, Draco and Charlie signed their names to the marriage contract. Arthur and Lucius followed suit -- signing their own names as witnesses. A copy of the contract was given to both Heads of House, a third copy magically sent off by Dumbledore to be registered at the Ministry. With that formality out of the way, Charlie used a spell known only to Dragon Tamers to remove the Dragon Gold around Draco's neck. He presented the gold to Draco, however, allowing the boy to keep the object he obvious prized greatly. Draco graced Charlie with a rare smile that caused Molly to burst into tears once more.

After the ceremony, the large group sat down at the dining table set off to one side of the Room of Requirement to eat the wedding meal the House Elves had provided for them. Despite the presence of Lucius and Narcissa, the mood was a festive one -- it was hard to contain the natural exuberance of the Weasley clan, and none of them seemed to feel any need to put on false airs to placate the formal manners the Malfoys were used to.

Draco for his part looked overwhelmed by events, not at all certain how to integrate himself into the family he'd spent so much of his life denigrating. Severus found himself once again rather impressed with the generosity of the Weasley family -- Charlie's siblings seemed more than willing to give Draco a chance to start fresh with all of them. Even Ron, who had a long history of hatred with Draco, held his tongue, and even intercepted a prank item or two from the twins before they could be unleashed on anyone.

It was during dinner that Narcissa finally spoke up, having been oddly silent throughout the meal. "I don't suppose you and Draco have made any plans for the summer, Charlie?" she asked during a lull in the conversation. "I was thinking you should both come spend the summer at our Villa in Tuscany. Or perhaps you might prefer the Island in Greece - I'll have the yacht prepared for you and you can spend the summer touring about. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" She directed her suggestion largely toward her own son, but smiled graciously at Charlie.

Severus knew that Harry had warned Charlie about the things Sirius Black had said about Narcissa, and he wondered if Draco had been told of the man's suspicions. Severus had no doubt in his mind that if Charlie made the mistake of putting himself in the hands of Narcissa, isolating himself in one of their villas or private islands, he would never be seen again. The Cedo contract gave Charlie the power to control his own destiny, but a simple murder would end the marriage and return Draco to the control of his father once more.

Draco glanced at Charlie, obviously intending to let his bond-mate handle the situation, but Severus could see the wariness in the boy's blue eyes. Charlie merely smiled. "Thank you, Narcissa," he inclined his head at the offer. "But we've made no firm plans yet. I do have to work, you know -- summer is a busy time for Dragon Tamers. I've only been able to take off the time this winter because so many of the Dragons hibernate in the cold weather."

"You needn't spend the entire summer then," Narcissa replied, the expression on her face indicating exactly what she thought of someone having to 'work' for a living. "Perhaps a week or two? Draco does so love to travel, don't you my dear?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing Romania, mother," Draco answered. "I want to see where Charlie works - I want to see his Dragons."

"Really?" Narcissa raised one blond, delicate eyebrow obviously finding such a thing unbelievable. "I think the climate in Tuscany would be far better for you both. And you must really introduce Charlie to some of the extended members of the family -- it's only proper. I'll arrange travel plans for. . ."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed excitedly, interrupting Narcissa in mid sentence. "You can all come stay at the Burrow! Wouldn't that be wonderful? You can meet all the Weasleys -- Arthur has so many cousins, and the Prewetts -- you have to meet all my cousins."

Both Lucius and Narcissa looked alarmed at the suggestion, but before they could say anything against such a thing, Molly burst into tears again, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "Oh! I'm sorry!" she told them all, and then began giggling uncontrollably. "I'm just so happy! I don't mean to be so emotional, it's just with the baby and all I can't seem to help myself."

For a moment no one said anything -- and then all seven of the Weasley children shouted in unison, "Baby!" Severus found himself utterly at a loss for words.

Molly looked at them all in surprise. "Didn't I tell you?" A quick glance at her husband who shook his head confirmed that she had not in fact told anyone anything.

"Mum?" Ginny asked in shock. "Are you. . .are you pregnant?" Her sons were all staring at her -- their gazes moving back and forth between their overly emotional mother and their rather pleased looking father.

"I am!" Molly agreed happily. "Happened right after you got back from the Winter Lands Harry. I don't know what got into Arthur!"

All eyes turned toward Arthur who had the grace to look somewhat sheepish as he shrugged at his family. At the far end of the table Severus noticed Albus covering his mouth with his hand, stifling a chuckle that was quite apparent in his twinkling eyes. Severus wasn't certain if the Weasleys caught the significance of the timing, but he saw a faint redness flush through Harry's cheeks as the boy glanced at him in shock.

"Remus is going to be so embarrassed," Harry whispered to him and Severus had to nod his head in agreement. Seemed Severus and Charlie weren't the only ones whose libidos had been affected by the feral transference.

Narcissa looked vaguely horrified by the announcement. Lucius on the other hand simply looked irritated, and shot his wife a cold glare as if this were all somehow her fault. Severus knew that Lucius had always desired more than one child -- he suspected that along with hating Arthur's way of life, he also envied him the large number of children he'd been blessed with.

Severus glanced down the table at Albus who raised his glass to toast the happy occasion. Severus just sighed -- no doubt in Albus' mind this was just yet another beneficial effect of a werewolf. Even one who'd gone feral seemed capable of producing something positive, even if the man himself was lying insentient in a cave. Just what the world needed, another Weasley. Hogwarts it seemed would never be without someone from that family attending.

Thanks to the rather talkative Weasley clan, the dinner ended without Narcissa extracting any promises from Charlie. Draco and Charlie would be leaving for some private location for the next five days for a short honeymoon -- Draco had already made arrangements to keep up on his class work. Once the two of them had vanished via a portkey provided by Dumbledore, Harry and the rest of the Weasley children headed up to Gryffindor Tower for the evening. Severus and Albus escorted Molly, Arthur and the two Malfoys down to the waiting carriages at the front gate. They thought it best to make certain that Lucius actually left the premises without lingering too long.

After seeing everyone off, Albus smiled at Severus. "I take it you want to talk to me about something?"

Severus just nodded. Albus always seemed to know when he was needed, though he swore he did not read minds. Perhaps he had merely become extremely good at reading body language? Either way, Severus followed him back up the numerous stairs of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's private office at the top of his own tower. A happy trill from Fawks greeted them when they entered the cluttered office. After petting his phoenix, Albus summoned a service of tea and motioned for Severus to be seated in one of the numerous armchairs near his desk.

"Albus," Severus began with out preamble. "Did you ever see the Eye of Odin up close?"

His question obviously startled the Headmaster, and he stroked his long beard thoughtfully before replying. "Up close, no," he admitted. "I did see it from a distance when Voldemort was approaching the castle. And I believe there is a photograph of it in one of the newspaper articles -- though it was rather poor quality."

"What did it look like?" Severus pressed.

Albus glanced away as if looking at a distant memory. "It was green in color like an emerald but with strands of red woven through it. According to legend it either was or was supposed to represent Odin's green eye. The strands of red are supposed to be the veins that bled when it was plucked from his head."

Nodding, for he had expected such an answer, Severus reached beneath the collar of his robes and lifted the chain he wore around his neck. He removed the chain and held the Heart Stone out to Albus, setting it down on the man's desk between them. "Did it look anything like this?"

Albus' eyes widened in shock. "Severus, where. . ."

"It's Harry's Heart Stone," Severus explained before the man could continue. "He gave it to me this afternoon. I want to think that it is coincidence that it looks so much like the Eye of Odin. Harry saw the stone up close."

"The Eye of Odin exploded in Harry's hand," Albus confirmed. "It was destroyed -- I'm certain of that. The boy did not lie about it -- in fact I am fairly certain that the boy has not even thought on the matter since then. That can't be the Eye."

"I know," Severus nodded in agreement. By now every portrait in the room was watching them, former Headmasters crowding together in the nearest canvases to see the stone up close. "It's definitely a Heart Stone. Touch it."

Albus reached out one wrinkled hand and placed his fingers lightly against the surface of the stone. Behind the half-moon glasses, Albus' blue eyes widened in shock. "Merlin!" the old man exclaimed. "Minerva and Filius had told me that the boy's Heart Stone was extraordinary, but I had not expected something like that." He picked the stone up and held it cradled in his hand as if he could not bear to let it go.

"The boy saw the Eye of Odin up close and his subconscious mind likely settled on this design without even knowing it," Severus stated, as if trying to convince himself. "But you see how difficult it is to take anything for granted -- especially in light of the power embedded in that stone?"

Albus nodded in agreement. "I wish I knew what to tell you, Severus," he sighed. "I confess I am as baffled as you -- I don't know what this means, if it means anything at all. All my senses tell me that this is nothing more than a Heart Stone, with no intrinsic power or ability to it."

"But there is that gnawing spark of doubt," Severus finished for him. "What is it exactly that the Eye of Odin was supposed to be able to do?"

Albus shook his head uncertainly. "There were lots of stories. The most common one said that it had the ability to find things that were lost."

Severus frowned in confusion. "A location spell would do the same," he pointed out. "I thought it made a Wizard invincible? How could such a simple thing be turned into a weapon?" From what he'd heard the Eye of Odin had been wielded like a powerful weapon by Voldemort -- he'd been able to kill indiscriminately with it, and send blasting bolts of power at the wards and walls of Hogwarts. He'd been able to subjugate the minds of all the creatures around him.

"Not like that," Albus shook his head. "To find what was lost did not mean finding items, but rather energies. With the Eye you could literally find the Strands of Fate, the strands of life and death, the hidden energies of the Earth, the Paths of Destiny. It's a terrible power for anyone to possess, let alone a madman like Voldemort."

Severus shivered at the description, but felt some small sense of relief. Harry's Heart Stone had no such ability -- it was merely a very powerful magical signature, made by a very extraordinary young man.

Albus stared thoughtfully down at the stone still cradled in his hand. "I don't know why this looks like the Eye, Severus," the old man admitted. He held out his hand to give back the stone. "But it is extraordinary, and a precious gift you should treasure. And maybe. . ." He shook his head thoughtfully. "You are right; we can take nothing for granted where Harry is concerned."

Severus slipped the chain back over his head, hiding the stone once more beneath his clothing. Albus had grown pensive and he watched as the old man leaned back in his chair, once more stroking his beard in deep reflection. "Albus?" he asked, wondering what was bothering the man so deeply.

"I have lately been receiving a great deal of correspondence concerning Harry," Albus confessed. Severus thought about the stacks of wedding gifts he'd received and the new letters pouring in since Harry's trip to the Winter Lands. Was Albus also being plagued with rerouted mail?

"More fan mail?" he asked.

Albus smiled at that but shook his head. "I've seen some of the piles you've been receiving, but no. These are letter directed to me from foreign governments. A lot of people out in the world are very curious about Harry."

Foreign governments! Severus found himself baffled by the thought -- he knew of course that stories about Harry Potter frequently made the international news, but for the most part the insanity that followed the boy tended to limit itself to the British Isles.

Albus leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, fingers folded together in contemplation. "Seers all over the world have been having visions about Voldemort," Albus explained. "All the visions are vague and unclear, but they've put the ENTIRE Wizarding World on alert. For a long time the world largely ignored us because they believed Voldemort merely wanted to conquer Britain. Now they are not so certain he will be satisfied with Britannia alone. They are all frightened. And from what I've heard, Voldemort is traveling. He has done nothing aggressive that anyone knows about, but he is moving from one country to the next, from one continent to the next. His presence is being felt all over the planet."

"And because of that they're asking about Harry?" Severus guessed. It was bad enough that Britain expected a sixteen-year-old boy to save them -- but for the entire world to turn their attention to him was unacceptable.

Albus nodded in agreement. "They don't know what to do any more than we do."

"But they expect Harry to know what to do?" Severus demanded.

"They expect miracles, Severus," Albus replied. "And Harry has made a career out of providing miracles."

"Sheer dumb luck!" Severus protested. "It's insane!"

"They're asking about you as well, Severus," Albus continued.

Severus frowned. "Me?" he shook his head. "What about me?"

"They're interested in knowing about your marriage to Harry. There isn't a country in the world that wouldn't like to claim Harry as their own. Were it not for the fact that he is already married, I am certain I would be inundated with more marriage proposals than I already am."

It took a moment for the implication of his words to seep in, and when they did Severus leaped to his feet in outrage. "More?" he demanded. "Are you saying you have been receiving marriage proposals for Harry despite the fact that everyone knows he's married to me?" An unexpected wave of jealousy flashed through Severus to accompany the outrage he felt at such a thing.

Albus just shrugged. "There are numerous places in the world where a person of power and status is allowed to have more than one spouse. British politics are being closely followed all over the world. It isn't difficult for people to figure out that your marriage was arranged to protect Harry from our Ministry candidates. And there are plenty of Seers in the world gifted enough to figure out that Harry is still a virgin."

Severus' heart clenched at that, a cold chill washing over him. Divorce was highly uncommon in the Wizarding World, but a marriage could be annulled easily enough if it remained unconsummated. He stared hard at Albus. "Are you suggesting that I should. . .push this issue?" There was a good portion of him that was horrified by the idea, and unfortunately an equal portion of him that was hoping the Headmaster said yes. How easy it would be to convince himself to take what he wanted for the good of everyone involved -- that perhaps such an act would be somehow noble and justified.

"No," Albus shook his head, and equal parts relief and disappointment washed through Severus' body. He began to pace restlessly around the office, his emotions unsettled, his body on edge.

Albus watched him for a moment before continuing. "I've let it be known that your bond was chosen by the Marriage Stone. That offers you some degree of protection. They have no choice but to respect a soul bond. But the issue has been raised and will likely not go away. There may come a time in the future when you will have to make a decision. . . " He broke off and shook his head. "No," he corrected. "When you and Harry will have to make a decision. This cannot be decided without him. Too many choices have been taken from him."

With every word the Headmaster uttered, Severus felt as if his world was slipping away from him -- his future slipping inexorably from his control. He ground his teeth together, biting back the vicious words he wanted to shout to stop any of this from happening. He wanted to attack someone -- wanted to vent his rage before it destroyed him. How dare anyone interfere in his life like this! How dare anyone interfere in his marriage!

"I take it then you don't wish to give him up?" Albus' mild tone grated on his nerves. Less than a month ago he'd asked him if he were in love with the boy -- he had been unable to answer then, and had no intention of answering now.

"That's not the point!" he shouted in fury. "I'm not going to get into some ridiculous conversation with you about love!" He struck his fist against one of the stone walls of the office, upsetting the portraits nearby; again he began pacing like a caged animal. Panic and rage warred inside him. "Damn it, Albus! You did this to me!"

"You didn't expect to care about him?" Albus guessed.

"I don't!" Severus shouted. "I don't!" But even as he said it, he knew it was lie. God help him, but he did care! Too much!

He found himself sinking back down into the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. "Damn it, Albus," he whispered, fighting now to regain some semblance of control. He took a deep breath. He couldn't shake off the anger, the sense of greedy, possessive fury that someone, anyone, would take something that was his. "I married him," he snarled. "I accepted him as my bondmate. And I am not going to let you, or the Ministry, or anyone else take him from me!"

Albus' expression was unreadable as he asked softly, "And what if he wants to be free?"

Just like that, his words took the wind from Severus' sails. Because of course there was one person in this world who could sway him -- one opinion he no longer believed he could deny. What would he do if Harry opened his eyes and realized that the whole world was literally his oyster, and that he didn't have to settle for a mediocre marriage to a man he barely tolerated? He found his hand clutching convulsively at the Heart Stone around his neck that pulsed with the signature of a Wizard he could never hope to match.

His gaze drifted somewhat aimlessly around the room until it stopped on an innocuous blue crystal ball sitting on one of the numerous shelves adorning the office. The Marriage Stone had started all this -- the stupid artifact that had ruined so many lives. Rising to his feet he crossed the room and picked up the crystal ball, staring into its depths. "Severus Snape," he said clearly and waited for the image he knew would appear in its depths. The smiling face of Harry Potter stared up at him from the light that momentarily burned at the heart of the stone.

There was no one else in the world for him. The boy was his soul mate. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

"Damn you, Albus," he said quietly as he set the Marriage Stone back on its shelf and turned to walk out of the room. The Headmaster let him go in silence.

-----------------------------------

Author's Notes:

So many people were asking me about Valentines Day that I decided to write the gift exchange between Harry and Severus as a last minute thing. As seems to happen so often with these things, it actually solved a plot problem I have further down the line. Happy accidents.

Also, I've been getting lots of requests for an explanation of my literary and mythological references. I don't have a specific work in mind -- the reality is there are so many versions of the myths that I'm pulling from, that it would be impossible to tell you which one specifically to go look at. I'll write up an explanation of my symbolism at the end of the story for those of you who want more information. I'm pulling heavily from Norse, Scandinavian, and Celtic traditions.

As for the bit with Molly's pregnancy -- no, it isn't vital to the plot, but the idea amused me. We never got see how Arthur reacted to the Feral Transference, and I thought this was appropriate considering the Weasleys tendency to propagate. They must be the most fertile couple in the Wizarding World. Lucius is horribly envious (despite the fact that he is a rotten father), and Narcissa is disgusted by the mere thought. Can't you just imagine the Malfoys in the Burrow?

Regarding the Foreign Correspondence: The request are going to Dumbledore because he is seen as Harry's public contact with the world. If you haven't noticed, both Dumbledore and Severus are making it a point to keep Harry isolated from the public in general -- which is a good thing. It is Severus dealing with all the fan-mail, not Harry. Harry is still a student -- he should be focusing on his studies, not on the insanity that the public has forced upon him. Albus as a member of the International Confederation of Wizards (something that will come up later in the story) is seen as the go-between for the rest of the world and Harry.

A lot of people have been asking about Divorce in the Wizarding World -- so I thought I'd mention it here as well. As you can see from this chapter, divorce is technically possible, but rarely done. It would be considered highly dishonorable in this society. An annulment would be far more likely. And because so many people have asked about the Marriage Stone (Severus was chosen for Harry, but would Harry be chosen for Severus) I thought I'd put that issue to rest once and for all as well. Hope you liked it.

On a last note: Thank you for the many reviews and emails. And thank you for those of you who are producing art work! I've actually stumbled across a few pictures here and there in various journals. I'm loving it all. I'm very sorry about the spelling and editing errors that creep into my story -- my beta reader has not kept up with me and I haven't the patience to wait overly long. I figured the majority of you would prefer to get my chapters as I finish them (completely with all my mistakes) rather than wait for the extra days (or weeks sometimes) it takes to have these beta'd. I will have this entire thing beta-read when I'm done with it, and will post a clean copy on my web site. I promise to fix all my quite/quiet, to/too/two, their/there/they're errors eventually.


	53. Chapter 53 Polite Affections

Chapter 53 -- Polite Affections

When Harry headed down to the Great Hall for dinner the following evening, the last thing he expected was to come around a corner and find his two best friends locked in a heated embrace. They had obviously been waiting for him -- this corridor was largely unused save by Severus and Harry on their way to and from the Great Hall. But apparently they'd found something to do other than talk during the wait. Harry stared at them in opened-mouth shock.

Illuminated in the torchlight he could see Hermione leaning against the stone wall of the corridor. Ron had his hands placed against the wall on either side of her head, his body leaning into hers as he kissed her deeply. At some point one of his hands moved to her hair, fingers tangling in the brown locks as he tilted her face upward for better access, his mouth moving hungrily against hers. From the looks of things it was obvious that Hermione found this unexpectedly aggressive behavior quite pleasing; a soft moan escaped her throat as she returned his kiss.

It was the second time in as many days that Harry had watched two people kissing, and just like with Charlie and Draco, Harry felt a flush of embarrassment sweep over him. He knew of course that Ron was crazy about Hermione, and that those feelings were more than returned. Certainly he'd watched the two of them dancing around one another long enough to expect such a thing -- but the sight still caught him off guard. He couldn't help but wonder how many times the two of them had kissed like this? Hermione had implied not long ago that their relationship had not progressed this far.

But then again, they were sixteen and sixteen-year-olds were not known for their restraint. Perhaps their own Valentine's Day exchange had sparked some change between them?

As he watched, Harry felt something awake inside him -- something more than just embarrassment. What would it be liked, he wondered, to be kissed like that? For one moment he tried to imagine himself in the same situation -- and there he stumbled upon a roadblock.

Which position would he take? Ron's or Hermione's?

If someone were to kiss him. . . .someone. . .Severus perhaps, he wondered? He was married to Severus, and after the numerous sword lessons with a great deal of physical contact, he was beginning to think he might not be entirely opposed to the idea. Would he be the one pressed up against the wall like Hermione was, or he would he be the aggressor?

Images from the dreams he'd been having returned to him, stirring his body. The man in those dreams had been strong and powerful, manipulating his body with ease and skill. He'd felt overwhelmed in those dreams, his senses overpowered by taste and touch and the warmth of another body moving against his. Severus was strong, he thought, his body hard with well-earned muscles, and there was no passivity in his soul. He could not by any stretch of the imagination, picture Severus in Hermione's position. His heart fluttered in shock, as he wondered what it would be like to have Severus press against him like that, or like the man in his dream. Heat rushed through him, his face growing hot.

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn't . . . wasn't what, he asked himself? Wasn't gay? He'd pretty much come to the conclusion that he probably was -- he was certainly attracted to men. To Severus at least -- though how weird was that! His Potion Master, the bane of his existence! But there wasn't anyone in the world who had eyes as intense as Severus, and his voice. . .Harry shivered. His voice could melt steel. Hell, he even liked the scent of the man -- at least his scent when he wasn't covered in strange potion fumes.

But what about Severus himself -- was he even gay? For all he knew Severus liked tall, blond women instead of geeky looking Gryffindors.

A thought occurred to him and Harry felt himself stiffening in indignation. What if Severus had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend for that matter? For all he knew the man might have been in a long-term relationship with someone for years now -- it's not like they had ever talked about it. He spent so much time fretting over the fact that he had been forced to marry Severus, he'd forgotten the fact that Severus had also been forced to marry him. Certainly no one had bothered asking Severus that night so many months ago if he were already involved with someone else. For all he knew Severus could have a dozen lovers hidden away somewhere and Harry would never know it.

"Oh! Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in shock, drawing his attention away from the odd thoughts racing through his head.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed as well, his face red with embarrassment. Both of his friends looked like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, too embarrassed to even move away from one another.

"Sorry!" Harry broke in quickly, equally embarrassed to have been caught staring at them. All three of them looked at one another for a moment, before they each broke into nervous giggles and grinned.

"Let's go to dinner," Hermione suggested and all was right with the world once again.

Eager to put the scene behind them, they raced down the corridor toward the Great Hall, entering the crowded hall with a sigh of relief.

Ron and Hermione usually sat across from one another at dinner, but in light of the situation, Harry wasn't surprised when they chose to sit next to each other instead. Harry just grinned sheepishly at the both of them as he took his own seat across from the couple. To his consternation, however, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sat on either side of him. They had several other girls with them -- seventh-years and fifth-years including Ginny. All of them were engaged in a rather heated discussion about marriage.

The various romances of Hogwarts had been the talk of the school yesterday on Valentine's Day. The marriage of Draco Malfoy had been the hottest topic amongst the girls, particularly last night in Gryffindor Tower when Bill, Percy, and the twins had returned with Ron, Ginny and Harry after the ceremony. Everyone had wanted to know if Charlie had gone through with it -- if Charlie Weasley had actually married the Malfoy heir. While the girls all agreed that Draco was handsome, his personality had put most of them off. They wanted to hear in minute detail precisely how he'd behaved with Charlie.

It seemed today that the talk still had not died down -- though now the girls were discussing the merits of an arranged marriage, and judging by the way Lavender and Parvati were draping themselves over Harry, they wanted his input on what he thought of the custom. He sighed in irritation -- why were girls so touchy?

"My parents want to arrange my marriage now," Lavender was complaining to everyone listening. "They think it has become far more fashionable again -- if it's good enough for Harry Potter, then it should be good enough for everyone. And they figure that obviously the Malfoys agree as well. My parents use to be progressive -- now they want to be traditional."

"But Draco's marriage wasn't arranged," Hermione interrupted. "Or rather it was arranged by Draco and Charlie and not by their parents."

"Doesn't look that way to hear Mr. Malfoy speak of it," Parvati replied. "The papers suggested that Dumbledore had something to do with the arrangements. My parents are thinking about asking him to arrange my marriage as well."

"Well, I for one don't want an arranged marriage," Lavender stated. "I can't even begin to imagine it!"

"Lavender," Hermione warned, glancing at Harry apologetically. Harry suspected that the girl was not even aware of the fact that she was technically insulting him.

"Oh, bother!" Lavender grumbled. She put her arm around Harry's shoulder and squeezed him briefly before patting him contritely on the leg. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know your marriage was arranged, but still! I don't want to be stuck in some horrible marriage -- I mean what if my parents pick someone terrible? What are you left with for the rest of your life? Worse case scenario you have to live with someone where the only emotion between you is cold disdain, or maybe if you're lucky cool regard. The best you could ever possibly hope for is polite affection and who wants to go through life like that, with no passion, no fire! I think I'd rather die!"

Parvati, on Harry's other side, grinned at him as she tugged on a lock of his hair teasingly. "Which do you have, Harry? Cold disdain, cool regard or polite affection?"

There was laughter up and down the table, and Harry flushed in discomfiture, glaring at all of them. "Are those my only choices?" he demanded.

"Apparently so," Ron remarked, equally as irritated by the topic of conversation. He glared at the girls. "I suppose you think that's all my brother can hope for as well?"

"He's married to a Malfoy!" Lavender reminded him. "They take the word 'cold' to a new height."

"I don't know about that," Neville said thoughtfully from further down the table. "He didn't seem all that cold to me when he was flinging daggers at the head table."

"Good point," Dean agreed with a nod of his head. "And I'm pretty certain we can all rule out 'polite' as well."

More laughter followed that. "For Professor Snape as well," Seamus added.

"There you see," Hermione said to the two girls. "You're going to have to broaden your definition of an arranged marriage."

But Lavender was not about to be put off. "You can't tell me you want your parents to arrange your marriage for you, can you?" she asked. "I mean what would you do if they told you tomorrow that they've decided that you are going to marry Ernie Macmillian next week and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it?"

"First off, my parents are Muggles and don't believe in arranged marriages," Hermione reminded her. "And second -- I didn't say I liked the idea of arranged marriages. I'd just like to point out that a lot of people here don't have any choice in the matter and you shouldn't go around disparaging the custom. Some arranged marriages work out just fine. People can be perfectly happy in arranged marriages."

"Perfectly happy," Lavender grumbled. "Perfectly happy in their mediocre, passionless lives. Name one arranged marriage that turned into true love?"

"My parents," Ron stated flatly. Everyone turned to look at him in shock. He just shrugged. "They were engaged to be married when they were ten years old. They fell in love while they were here at Hogwarts together. You can't tell me there's no passion in their lives. My mum's pregnant again for Merlin's sake!"

There were squeals of shock from the girls who had somehow missed that little bit of news yesterday, and Lavender looked quite surprised. In a matter of seconds the topic of conversation turned from marriage to babies and Harry rolled his eyes as he stared across the table at Ron and Hermione. He much preferred when they sat in their normal seats with Dean, Seamus and Neville around them.

Harry found himself deep in thought as he made his way back down to his room that evening after dinner. There were too many ideas running through his head, distracting him. Mediocre, passionless lives -- is that really what they thought his life was doomed to become? Or perhaps he'd manage the polite affection -- was that all he could ever expect? He couldn't help but remember the passionate embrace between Charlie and Draco at the wedding yesterday, or the kiss between Ron and Hermione earlier. And once again he began to wonder if Severus had someone else in his life.

It bothered him that he knew so little about the man's past -- knew nothing at all about his private life despite the fact that he'd been living with him for nearly a half year now. The man was too intense, too powerful to live his life without some sense of passion in it. Any relationship he might be engaged in would certainly not be cold or emotionless.

But what if it wasn't a relationship, a nagging voice in his head wondered? What if it was just sex? Severus wasn't a Gryffindor after all -- Harry doubted he believed in the ideas of true love or fidelity. There was plenty of speculation amongst the students about the roles the various Houses followed -- Gryffindors had grand, high romances filled with epic passion, tragedy and eternal love. Hufflepuffs preferred the quiet, subtle relationships that remained unchanged from one moment to the next, mellowing into friendship. Ravenclaws went for the logical choice, the compatible companion who could support a mutual future of quiet comfort. And Slytherins -- Harry sighed at that. Slytherins were cold and calculating, moving from one seduction to the next and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind them.

He realized of course that the categorizations were ridiculous. Certainly Draco had broken form and had apparently gone for the high romance. And Remus and Sirius -- okay, Harry had to concede that the two of them had been following pretty closely to form. Though to hear Remus talk, Sirius had played the field when younger -- more like a Slytherin than a Gryffindor. But then again, he'd come from a long line of Slytherins and probably hadn't known any better. And Sirius had confessed to him that he'd been interested in Remus even then, and had only looked elsewhere because Remus had seemed so indifferent.

Harry groaned in irritation. Why on earth did such thoughts have to plague him now? Didn't he have enough to worry about without thinking about the state of his love life? He rather doubted that Severus had such thoughts plaguing him, nor would he appreciate the angst-filled ramblings of a bewildered teenager. He silently cursed Cornelius Fudge for his stupid plans that had forced this situation on him in the first place.

Severus was seated in front of the fire reading a book when Harry finally entered the room. Judging by the way the man was flipping through the pages of the book, Harry suspected he was irritated about something. He could hardly be reading after all -- he was flipping the pages too swiftly for that.

He stared at him for a long moment. The man had removed his teaching robes and was dressed casually in dark trousers and a white shirt. He'd showered earlier, after their sword lesson, and his black hair looked soft and clean, the locks curling slightly where they draped against his broad shoulders. He wasn't truly a handsome man -- not like Sirius -- but he was attractive, his features strong and proud, his eyes intense. Even his nose was beginning to grow on Harry; it lent his face a certain aristocracy that he rather liked. Such thoughts confirmed to Harry all the more clearly that there were likely lots of people who would be interested in Severus. It seemed foolish now for him to have assumed he was completely unattached. Something tightened in his stomach at the thought.

"Are you having sex?" he blurted out, and was immediately horrified by himself. His face turned bright red in shock. He couldn't believe he'd just asked the man something like that!

Severus looked up incredulously, his dark eyes widening in disbelief. "Not at the moment," he growled, his resonate voice filled with disdain. He lifted his book briefly. "This is called reading. Your education is sorely lacking if you're confusing it with sex."

Harry sputtered in mortification. "No," he squeaked, his voice breaking. "I meant are you. . .I mean I was wandering if. . .if . . .is there someone. . .I didn't mean to. . ." He broke off, completely unable to finish his thought, unable to find the right words to ask his question. If his skin grew in any hotter he suspected he'd pass out from heat stroke.

Severus' eyes narrowed as he listened to him flounder for words. "Is this your rather uncouth way of asking me if I'm currently seeing someone?"

"Uncouth?" Harry exclaimed.

"Very," Severus sneered. "Such a Muggle turn of phrase. The proper way to ask such a question is to inquire as to whether or not I'm having an affair."

Some of Harry's humiliation was turning to anger. "Proper way? There's a proper way of asking such a thing?" A wave of outrage washed over him.

"Naturally," Severus informed him coolly, once again leafing rather aggressively through the pages of his book. "Though in truth, broaching the subject at all is a bit risky. After all, it might prompt me to begin asking questions of my own."

Harry wasn't at all certain he liked the direction this conversation had turned. He felt both angry and unsettled, not to mention intensely confused. "What questions?"

"For example I might be inclined to ask why Ms. Brown had her hand on your thigh during dinner this evening?" Severus stated, a cold snarl in his voice.

"She did not!" Harry protested in shock.

Severus snapped his book violently closed as he looked up swiftly and pinned Harry with a dark glare. "She most certainly did!"

Harry found himself replaying the evening in his mind. Certainly Lavender had been sitting rather close to him -- and she'd draped her arm over his shoulder several times, maybe touched him more than he liked. But he was fairly certain he would have noticed if someone had put their hand on his thigh -- at least he thought he would, wouldn't he?

"She didn't!" he denied again. "I think I would have noticed if someone put their hand on my thigh. And even if she did, it's not like she meant. . . ." he broke off sputtering again, unable to find the proper word.

"Not like she meant what?" Severus demanded as he rose to his feet, tossing the book down on the coffee table. "If you didn't notice someone putting their hand on your thigh, I'm finding it doubtful that you are capable of understanding what it might or might not mean!"

"I know what it means!" Harry shouted in outrage. "I'm not stupid! I'd know if someone were flirting with me."

Severus took a menacing step toward him, but Harry was too angry to care. "Flirting? Flirting is the exchange of verbal innuendoes. Sliding a hand up your thigh is more accurately described as throwing a pass at you!"

"She wasn't throwing a pass at me!" Harry insisted, glaring at him. "I think I'd notice if someone was throwing a pass at me!"

"Really?" Severus mocked. "And did you also notice when Ms. Patil started playing with your hair?"

"What?" Harry stared at him in dismay -- he did vaguely remember someone tugging on his hair, but he'd dismissed it as an irritant. "She didn't! She wasn't. . .I mean they weren't throwing passes at me! I'd notice if they were!"

"She was seconds away from kissing you!" Severus snarled at him, glaring down at him from his superior height. Harry could feel the heat from his breath fanning his already hot skin. His heart was pounding in his chest, blood coursing through his veins with a riot of emotions he could not name.

"Now I know you're delusional!" Harry exclaimed, reacting with anger since he did not know how else to respond. "I think I'd notice if someone was going to kiss me!"

The strong arm that snaked around his waist caught him completely off guard, as did the hand that tangled in his hair. His exclamation of shock was muffled beneath the hot press of lips against his own as Severus captured his mouth in a demanding kiss that sent his thoughts tumbling away from him in chaos. His body was pulled hard against Severus', the heat of the man's lean form burning his own as he was molded chest to hip to thigh against him. And the extraordinary sensation of a tongue pressing into his mouth, lips moving against his, warm heat devouring him -- he moaned beneath the onslaught.

Against his bidding, he raised his hands, clutching at the narrow, powerful hips of the man kissing him, feeling firm muscles moving against him, sliding beneath his palms. He couldn't think -- could only react, unable to focus on anything other than the brilliant sensation of taste and touch. The demanding heat of Severus' mouth was intoxicating.

And just as suddenly he was released, mouth bruised and tingling, body thrumming with energy as he stared up into the smoldering eyes of Severus Snape. "Did you notice that?!" the man all but snarled at him before turning and striding angrily across the room to disappear through the door to his office. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Harry alone and breathless in the sitting room, body shaking with reaction.

Frozen to his spot, mind so blank he wouldn't have been able to react if Death Eaters had leaped into the room and attacked him, Harry raised his hand to his lips. They were still tingling with sensation, Severus' scent and taste still overwhelming him. Words from earlier this evening began drifting through his numb mind. Cold disdain, cool regard? Polite affection? Which was this, he wondered? Because he wasn't certain he could handle anything more. His heart was still racing.

Good lord! The man had kissed him! What on earth had he done to prompt that? And could he do it again, a little voice asked before he squashed it into silence.

He walked somewhat dazedly toward the bedroom, still tracing his kiss-swollen lips with his fingers. He was beginning to see what all the fuss was about -- why his classmates were so obsessed with such things. That had been. . . .well, he wasn't entirely certain how to describe it, wasn't entirely certain how to deal with the fact that he was talking about Severus Snape. Certainly if someone had suggested such a thing six months ago, he would have reacted much differently.

Harry stopped suddenly, his thoughts coming to an abrupt, screeching halt. Severus had never answered his question! In fact, like a true Slytherin, Severus had very pointedly avoided his question! Uncouth, he fumed. Uncouth to wonder if his bondmate was having an affair!

"Bloody hell!" Harry cursed, before he strode angrily into the bedroom and slammed the door violently shut behind him.

-------------------------------

He wasn't going to apologize! Severus kept that thought foremost in his mind as he sat down at his desk and pulled out his quill to begin marking papers from class. No, he most definitely was not going to apologize! So what if he'd kissed the boy -- the boy obviously needed kissing if he was too clueless to know when two -- TWO -- different girls were throwing passes at him in public!

All day he'd been trying very hard to rein in his emotions, which were still on edge after his conversation with Albus yesterday. After all it wasn't Harry's fault that the rest of the world had taken an interest in him -- that total strangers were questioning their marriage. And it wasn't the students' fault either -- though he also wasn't going to give back the fifty points he'd taken from the various houses during the day. He liked that part.

For the most part he'd been in a semi-cordial mood when he'd finally gone down to dinner that evening. Harry had met him for their sword lesson earlier, and he'd been able to work off a great deal of his frustration in a relatively healthy manner. He'd nodded politely to Albus and Minerva, had greet Hagrid with a causal inquiry about his health, and had served himself a modest portion of the roast beef waiting before his plate. The House Elves had placed out a nice selection of drinks to go with the meal -- including some pleasant wines, which were only allowed at the head table on rare occasions.

Dinner had been going well. Fine in fact. The Hufflepuffs were still giggling at him. The Ravenclaws were arguing about some meaning-of-life question that they were fairly certain that the rest of the world had gotten wrong. The Slytherin were whispering amongst themselves -- no doubt plotting to take over the world. And the Gryffindors were loud and obnoxious -- like usual. Everything was status quo.

And then Lavender Brown had put her arm around Harry's shoulder and pressed her rather ample breasts against his side.

Severus had felt something twisting inside him at the sight. What the hell was this, he'd wondered! It was obvious the Gryffindors were engaged in some sort of heated discussion, though he couldn't hear the details from the head table. But why this discussion required Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil to sit so close to Harry, he didn't know.

When he saw Lavender smile and slip her hand underneath the table, he'd gone cold inside. Was she stroking his thigh!? He'd tried very carefully to school his features into absolute stillness, intent on giving nothing away with his expression. It did not stop the sense of fury welling up inside of him.

On the other side of Harry, Parvati was leaning closer to him -- less well-endowed, but prettier in face. She was smiling warmly at Harry, speaking softly to him. From here it almost looked like she was whispering in his ear -- when she'd raised her hand to touch Harry's hair, Severus' fist had tightened around his dagger hilt. What on earth was going on at Gryffindor table? And why were the females climbing all over his bond mate!

Guessing that he wouldn't likely be allowed to murder anyone in the Great Hall -- at least not in front of Dumbledore -- Severus had stormed out of the Hall a while later, too angry to watch the Gryffindors any longer. Were some of those marriage proposals Albus had received coming from the other students at Hogwarts? He tried to remember the marriage customs of India -- the Patils were Indian. Were they allowed to have more than one spouse there? Brown of course was English, but the little tart probably didn't care about customs or honor.

He'd tried to calm himself before Harry had returned, but had spent the ensuing minutes wondering if Harry was going to return at all. Such thoughts had not been conducive to calmness. And then a few moments later Harry had entered the room and asked him if he were having sex. Bloody hell!

So he'd kissed him. Probably not the best response, but Severus was getting tired of being so bloody honorable. So bloody noble! He had a gorgeous, nubile, powerful -- CLUELESS -- young man sleeping in his bed night after night and he had not laid a hand on him. And really Harry had been practically asking for it. And they were married for Merlin sake! It was not like any court in the world would convict him for kissing the boy. No, he was definitely not going to apologize.

And really the boy looked far too lovely when he got angry like that -- eyes flashing, face flushed with emotion. Asking him to keep his hands to himself was ridiculous. Was he a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff for Merlin sake? Then he remembered the three fourth-year Hufflepuffs that were apparently putting his house to shame and decided that perhaps that was no longer a good comparison.

"He can apologize to me," he told himself as he marked a 'T' for Troll at the top of the paper he was grading. Imagine asking him such a question! He'd been with Harry every night since they'd gotten married -- had been doing his damnedest to keep him safe. When on earth would he have found time to have an affair? And why would Harry care in the first place?

But if he did care. . . Severus stilled at that thought. Could he care? He tried to picture Harry's expression when he'd asked that question. Had he been jealous -- or had it been nothing more than idle curiosity? Fidelity was important to Harry -- he knew that much from past conversations. Was he truly beginning to speculate about Severus' private life, and if he was, how could he turn this to his advantage?

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. What was happening to him lately? Why was he so obsessed with a boy he'd barely touched? Certainly no other person had ever gotten so far under his skin. He didn't know how to handle it.

He sat lost in thought for a long while, no longer paying any attention to the papers he was supposed to be marking. Far too much of his time lately had been taken up with contemplating Harry. Six months ago when he'd married Harry he'd done it solely to protect him -- because Albus had said that the boy needed him. He'd promised himself then that he'd be an honorable partner. He'd been raised to believe that a man should treat his bond-mate a certain way -- with respect, with care -- regardless of his personal feelings. And he'd set out to do just that. But somewhere along the way his emotions had gotten involved.

He'd once thought that when the time came and Harry turned his affections toward someone more suitable, he'd quietly accept the situation and turn a blind eye to any indiscretion -- provided of course it remained properly out of view of the public. But he was beginning to realize that he was not likely to do that -- not likely to ever turn a blind eye to anything Harry might wish to do. And yet at the same time he had no desire to hurt the boy either. The whole thing left him foolishly hoping that Harry would simply turn his affections toward him -- that would certainly solve all his problems, wouldn't it?

Even as he though the idea the Slytherin in him railed at it -- hope was for Gryffindors, not Slytherins. Slytherins knew better. The last thing he wanted to do was behave like a foolish Gryffindor. Right?

Sighing, Severus set aside his quill and cleaned up the papers on his desk. It was growing late and sitting in the office brooding was not going to help him. He headed to the bedroom instead -- perhaps tomorrow things would look different. If nothing else he was bound to learn what fallout his kiss had earned him.

Harry was asleep when he entered the room, curled up neatly on his side of the bed, an empty vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught on the nightstand beside him. He felt some relief at that -- for what it was worth his behavior had not caused the boy to suddenly mistrust him and forgo his potion in favor of remaining alert to any advances Severus might make. He still cringed in guilt when he thought about the night he'd nearly taken advantage of the boy while he was asleep.

Despite having showered earlier, he showered again, intent on taking care of his body's needs before climbing into bed beside Harry. Beneath the cascade of hot water he stroked himself, for once letting his mind imagine what he might do if given the opportunity -- how he might touch and taste Harry if offered the chance. Kissing Harry while he was awake had been far more enjoyable than when he'd been asleep -- asleep he'd been soft and yielding, but this time he'd responded with fire, with strength. He'd struggled briefly before melting into him, opening his mouth to his tongue and responding with eager, angry passion that made the magic beneath his skin vibrate through his body.

He stroked himself harder, eyes closed as he pictured Harry in his mind, saw his kiss-swollen lips and glazed green eyes. He closed his other hand around the Heart Stone still hanging around his neck, feeling the overwhelming sense of Harry's magic pulsing through his veins. He bit his lip harshly to hold back the cry that wanted to escape as he came violently against the shower wall, his body too sensitive and hungry to last long.

He cursed softly to himself after the fact. So foolish, so desperate. Angrily he washed away all signs of his indiscretion before leaving the shower and dressing in his nightclothes, the Heart Stone hidden beneath his nightshirt once again.

A quick wave of his wand extinguished all but one candle as he climbed into bed. Unable to help himself he looked down at Harry, letting his fingers trace lightly over his features. The boy turned softly toward his touch but did not wake. Those soft lips parted in his sleep and Severus felt his groin tightening in response. "Foolish Gryffindor," he whispered. "You should know better than to tease a snake."

But then again, that was what Gryffindors did best.

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Author's Notes:

I'm fairly certain that Heart Stones are not meant to be used like that. As you can see they've taken yet another step forward (sort of). So have Ron and Hermione. I guess Valentine's Day just brings out the romantic in everyone (that was Romantic for Harry and Severus…they communicate best by yelling at each other).

Harry is dealing not just with the idea that he might be gay, but also the idea of gender roles (this came up repeatedly in other chapters). I'm sure he'll figure it all out eventually. I imagine that if he did not have a Dark Lord to fight, a political world to navigate, werewolves, Vikings, Dementors and mystical visions to manage, he'd probably figure all this out a lot faster.

And yes, there is yet again a bit of Jane Austen in this chapter -- my readers are so sharp they tend to spot these things immediately!


	54. Chapter 54 Waking Moony

Chapter 54 Waking Moony

By Easter break Severus announced that he'd completed the Lycanthropy potion for Lupin. Harry greeted the news enthusiastically, sending off a letter to Sirius immediately and actually thanking Severus with a startling hug that had done little to placate the hormones that seemed to be running riot through his veins of late.

Things had been awkward between him and Harry since his jealous fit and the ensuing kiss, and he was grateful to have something positive to offer him, something to remind him of why being married to a Potion Master might not be such a bad thing. While the boy had not been distant or angry with him, he had been jumpy since than night, restless and nervous as if suddenly aware of a new dimension to their relationship that he didn't quite know how to accept just yet. He shied away from even a hint of flirtation, avoiding any conversation that might turn more intimate. The whole thing had set Severus on edge, and he was grateful for a temporary reprieve.

Most of the students vacated the school at the start of the Spring Break, leaving it fairly safe for Sirius to return. The two Weasley children remained behind, as well as Hermione. Draco refused to leave despite several letters from his mother asking him to come home. After their brief honeymoon, Charlie had returned to work in Romania, visiting only on the weekends when he flooed in to the private room Draco had been given in the castle. As McGonagall had pointed out, married students were not allowed in the dormitories, and as it would have been unsafe for Draco to live alone in Hogsmeade, Dumbledore had found him a private room that he could share with Charlie on the weekends, a fact that Draco accepted gleefully as a privilege denied the lesser beings in the school. Severus found the whole thing rather amusing.

Sirius arrived with Dumbledore the first morning of the break, entering Severus' quarters as Padfoot. The moment the door closed behind him, however, he shifted form and Harry raced across the room toward him, hugging him tightly in greeting. Severus merely watched the proceedings in annoyance. Who would think that there would come a time in his life when having Sirius Black in his private quarters would become common?

Black looked tired but excited, his blue eyes filled with an eager fire that in his childhood had warned of some new prank he was planning. Severus had to temper down the old mistrust that flared within him at the sight -- it was unlikely that Black was capable of thinking of anything other than his werewolf at the moment. Judging by the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, Severus suspected that Black's and Harry's excitement was contagious.

Seeing Severus, Black nodded to him, for once remembering his manners. "Snape," he greeted. "The potion is ready?" The eagerness in his voice was almost painful to hear. Why did Gryffindors have to wear their hearts on their sleeves?

Severus nodded, glancing briefly at Harry who stood pressed against Black's side, one arm still around him, a bright grin on his face. Would that the boy would be so eager to greet him when he came through the door in the evening!

"We have a number of things to talk about first, however," he warned Black, motioning him to sit down. Black, Harry and the Headmaster joined Severus on the seats before the fire.

"One of the requirements of this process is that Lupin know the Animagus transformation," Severus began. "I know you did not have much time to practice it before he went feral."

But Sirius waved away his concerned with a swift shake of his head. "Remus already knew the required spells even if he'd never done them before. James and I managed the transformation on our own in fifth year, but Peter required more study than us. Remus is the one who helped him complete the transformation. He probably knows the theory and the spells behind it as well as I do -- if not better. All he lacks is the practical application. We actually speculated at the time that if Remus became an Animagus, then transforming into an animal might disrupt his werewolf transformation and in essence cure him. But we soon learned that the Animagus spell does not work for a werewolf."

Severus nodded, relieved that one hurled had been overcome. "Once he takes the potion, he should be capable of the spell. You'll need to give him the potion and then wait fifteen minutes -- that should give the potion enough time to take effect. After that you must get him to transform into the wolf, and then back into a human, over and over again as many times as possible over the course of the next hour. His body has to become accustomed to maintaining two magical cores -- it will likely exhaust him, but you can't let him give up or become distracted. To be safe he should go through the full transformation sequence at least twenty times."

Sirius listened carefully to his words, seeming far more attentive than Severus had ever seen him. He nodded his head in understanding. "And after that?" he asked hopefully. "He'll be cured. That will be it?"

Severus shrugged. "According to the notes, yes. But we won't know for certain until the next full moon, which is in two days. The moon should have no effect on him. If he does not transform, then I'd say we're fairly safe. I'll want to run some further tests however. He'll still be a wolf, you understand. His instincts, his senses, his behavior is not likely to change. And as far as I know silver will still be deadly to him. As I said, I'll need to run further tests."

"Understood," Sirius nodded, rising to his feet. "Can we go now then? Is there any reason to wait further?"

Severus sighed and shook his head, noting that Harry stood up just as eagerly. Dumbledore just smiled at him and shook his head -- there was no controlling the Gryffindor urge to rush in blindly.

Sirius transformed once more into Padfoot while Severus gathered together the necessary potions. Along with the Lycanthropy cure, he also carried with him an antidote to the Draught of the Living Death. Harry grabbed the brooms he'd placed in the corner of the room. The three men and the dog headed toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and the hidden Chamber beyond.

They made their way down into the underground Chamber, following the now familiar path to Salazar's great hall and the hidden room beneath the founder's statue. Severus had not been into the small room since the night they had first entombed Lupin and he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous state the room was in now. Black, it seemed, had transfigured the place into a prankster's replica of the Gryffindor common room. Were it not for the fact that Severus knew that one did not dream under the influence of Draught of the Living Death, he would have wondered if Lupin had been suffering nightmares at the garishness of his surroundings.

Once they'd reached their destination, Severus glanced pointedly at Dumbledore who nodded his head in understanding. He approached Lupin's bed where Sirius and Harry were already waiting, both of them seated on either side of the sleeping man. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore bound Lupin to the bed once more with heavy iron shackles around both his arms and his legs. Both Sirius and Harry looked up in surprise.

"Remember," Dumbledore told them both. "He will still be feral when he is awakened."

They nodded in understanding, but neither looked happy by the idea. Dumbledore dropped a gentle hand onto Harry's shoulder. "Now, Harry, my boy, you and are going to be leaving," he announced.

"What?" Harry asked in alarm. "I don't want to leave. I want to be here when Remus wakes up!"

But Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry," he said firmly. "If Remus were not feral, this would not be an issue. But as it is he'll be hard enough to control -- the more people in the room the more difficult it will be on him. You and I will be leaving."

"But. . ." Harry protested, only to be stopped by his godfather.

"It's all right, Harry," he assured him. "I think I understand. Go with the Headmaster. I'll take care of Remus."

It was obvious by the expression on Harry's face that he thought he was missing something -- that there was something they were all not telling him. But he also trusted his godfather and he finally just sighed and nodded, giving in to their demands. Severus waited while Dumbledore led him out of the room, before turning to Black to explain further.

"You don't know if it's going to work, do you?" Black said quietly before he could speak.

Severus just shrugged. "According to all the tests I've run, it should work," he replied. "But no, I have no way of knowing absolutely."

"I take it you're leaving the room as well?" Sirius guessed. "I'll be administering the potions alone."

"You're the only one with any degree of protection if he transforms," Severus reminded him. "In your dog form you're safe from infection. I'm not. But that's not the only thing we have to take into consideration. If he weren't feral this wouldn't be nearly so dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

Severus just sighed and shook his head. "Look, Black, I'm hopeful that the potion will work -- but we have to accept the fact that you may find yourself trapped in this room with a feral werewolf who only has one thing on his mind -- claiming you as his mate. And I doubt the form either of you happen to be in at the time is going to matter all that much. You may not be able to control him."

"Remus won't hurt me," Sirius said with absolute conviction.

Severus just glared at him. "You're a fool!"

"And you're a Slytherin," Sirius snapped back.

Severus eyes narrowed, knowing the man had meant that as some sort of insult, but not able to see it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius just shook his head. "It means that you are incapable of understanding that sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and accept the fact that love can conquer all."

"Love!" Severus scoffed, wondering how an adult man could be so foolish as to believe that. "Love doesn't conquer all, Black. It certain didn't for your friends James and Lily Potter."

Sirius' blue eyes flashed with something hard and hurtful, but he shook his head in denial. "James and Lily died together. Their love protected Harry. And Harry has in turn protected all of us time and time again. There are worse things to fear than death."

"Worse things than death," Severus sneered. "One of which you may be about to experience. Believe in your happy little fantasies if you wish. I've done my part." He held up two vials of liquid. "This," he said indicating the first vial. "Is the antidote to the Draught of the Living Death. He should wake almost immediately." He held up the second vial. "This is the Lycanthropy potion -- give it to him as soon as he wakes. After that you have fifteen minutes to talk him down from his feral madness if you can. If it works, you'll have to release him from his bonds and begin the transformations immediately. If you're still alive in one hour, send us your Patronus and we'll release you from this room."

He handed over both potions to Black, and then pulled Lupin's wand from his sleeve and set it down on the nightstand. Swiftly he moved toward the door. "I hope for Harry's sake, you're right about love conquering all," he said in parting.

Black just laughed softly at that, his eyes taking on a mocking gleam. "Harry's sake?" he asked. "Why would you care for Harry's sake? Why not for your own sake -- for the accolade of discovering the cure for Lycanthropy?"

Severus stilled at that, frowning at the question. "I. . .Harry wouldn't. . ." he broke off, not entirely certain how to answer such a question.

Black just smirked at him, a decidedly unpleasant expression. "You see, that's the problem with not believing in love, Snape," he told him. "You don't recognize it when it bites you in the arse."

"Worry about your own arse!" Severus snarled at him, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Several strong locking charms applied to the door ensured it would not be opened until he returned later with Dumbledore.

Harry and Albus were waiting for him in the cavern just beyond the snake-covered entrance to the Chamber. Once through the door, Dumbledore shut it behind him, and nodded to Harry to close it. A hissed command in Parseltongue had the snake-shaped locking mechanisms twisting on the door.

"All we can do now is wait," Severus told them.

-------------------------------

Sirius sensed the locking wards Snape placed on the door after he left, and understood that he was on his own for this. But as he'd said early, sometimes you just had to take a leap of faith -- and taking such leaps was what Sirius Black was best at.

Opening the vial of the first potion, Sirius used his fingers to carefully part Remus' cold lips, pouring the potion directly into his mouth. He had to use his wand to get the man to swallow it as even his autonomic responses were frozen in the Living Death.

He waited breathlessly for the potion to take effect -- he hated seeing Remus like this, so still and unmoving. But in moments he felt a flicker of life beneath his hands -- he had one palm resting on Remus' chest, the other against his ice-cold cheek. Remus' heart gave a leap as it woke from its sound sleep, warmth magically washing through his chilled flesh as color returned once more to his cheeks. A soft sigh escaped his mouth as his lungs once again filled with air, and his eyes began moving restlessly beneath his closed lids as his thoughts reawakened after their long silent slumber.

"That's it, Moony," Sirius urged. "Wake up, come back to me."

A moment later those eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into the wild, yellow eyes of a wolf.

A cold shiver moved through Sirius at the sight -- he'd known it intellectually of course that Remus had gone feral. But seeing it first hand was something else entirely -- somehow he'd expected the warm amber eyes of his friend to be staring back at him. Only during those brief moments when Remus grew enraged had his eyes ever flashed this color -- and then only briefly. He was quite unprepared when Remus reared up, attempting to grab him -- only the bonds that held him tied to the bed preventing his actions. Sirius heart leaped in his chest, startled in spite of himself.

"It's alright," he said quickly, pushing against Remus' chest to hold him down, worried that if fought too hard against the iron shackles, he'd hurt himself. "I'm here, Moony. I'm here." He stroked Remus' hair back from his face.

Remus grew still beneath his hand. "Sirius?" he whispered hoarsely, and a strange thrill shot through Sirius' body at the sound. Remus could still talk -- still retained some fragile grip on his mind that allowed him to communicate. He should have known that Remus would never truly let his mind go -- he was too strong for that.

"Yes, Moony," he answered back, smiling gently at the man. He pried the stopper off the second vial of liquid. "You have to drink this for me. Please Moony, do this for me." He wasn't certain if Remus understood him, couldn't read the expression in those glowing eyes that stared at him so hungrily. But Remus parted his lips and drank at his urging, his gaze never leaving Sirius' face.

Snape had said it would take at least fifteen minutes for the potion to take affect, and Sirius used his wand to set a timer on the nightstand. The motion however seemed to startle Remus and he struggled against his bonds once again as if distressed that Sirius had moved away from him. Sirius quickly moved back, lying next to Remus and pressing the length of his body against his own. He stroked his hair again, letting his warm breath fan his face. Those yellow eyes never once left him.

"Can you understand me, Moony?" Sirius asked gently, keeping his tone low and even. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the wolf.

"Sirius," Remus said again, as if unable to say anything more. Something flickered deep within those yellow eyes, some spark of memory perhaps that gave Sirius hope. Again Remus strained against his bond, his fists opening and closing as if he were desperate to grab him.

"I'm not going any where," Sirius promised him. "I'm yours. I'd never leave you, Moony. You know that. I love you." He wasn't certain how much Remus understood, but his words seemed to calm him. Settling himself more comfortably against the man, he began to talk to him in soft tones, telling him about everything that had happened during the months they had been apart, stroking his hair and his face while he talked. Slowly the tension seemed to seep from Remus' body, his muscles unclenching as the minutes ticked away.

When the yellow glow in those eyes began fading, revealing the warm amber color he loved so well, Sirius felt tears prick his own eyes, his heart clenching in his chest. "Remus," he whispered, burying his own face against his friend's neck. A thousand fears drained from his body and it was all he could do not to sob in relief. Brave words to Snape aside, he'd been so afraid that Remus could not be saved from the madness that had gripped him.

"Padfoot?" the soft whisper reached his ears and he looked up hopefully. The clear amber gaze of his beloved friend stared back at him. "Is that really you?"

Sirius grinned. "Who else would lock themselves in a room with a feral werewolf?" he asked cheekily.

"I. . ." Remus seemed at a loss for words.

"Don't you dare apologize," Sirius told him sternly. "As declarations of love go, turning feral is right up there at the top of the Marauder's list of impressive acts. In fact I'm so flattered, I'm likely never to let you hear the end of it."

Color suffused Remus' cheeks, but it didn't entirely chase the worry from his eyes. "Are you. . .did you. . ."

"I'm not married," Sirius stated plainly, guessing that was what was on his mind. "And I'm not going to marry anyone else but you. Draco Malfoy is happily married to Charlie Weasley and is no longer a concern to either of us. Put it out of your mind."

"Charlie?" Remus looked utterly baffled, but his eyes were shining with hope. "I. . .don't. . ."

Sirius just smiled at him and shook his head -- there would be time enough later for conversations. He glanced at the clock -- their fifteen minutes were nearly up. "Remus can I release your bonds?"

Remus glanced down at the shackles around his arms, confusion still strong in his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted.

Sirius understood what he was saying -- the feral madness had receded, but he wasn't certain how far. It was likely he still felt out of control. "You have to listen carefully, Moony," he urged, capturing his friend's full attention. "I've given you the Lycanthropy potion. In a couple of minutes you are going to have to try the Animagus transformation for the first time. You need to transform into the wolf and then back into a human. You need to do this as many times as possible over the next hour. You can't think about anything else but that. You have to focus on that. I'll be right here; I'm not going anywhere. But you have to focus on that. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded his head, but it was obvious from the look in his eyes that he was worried. Sirius smiled at him and then pointed his wand at the shackles, whispering a silent prayer as he released them.

He felt Remus' hands close around his arms the moment he was free, the unnatural strength of the werewolf making any chance of escape impossible. Sirius forced himself to remain completely still, allowing Remus to pull him closer. He shivered when Remus buried his face against his neck, inhaling his scent. He felt the warm touch of lips against his throat, the faint scrape of teeth and wondered if he was about to be bitten.

"Please, Remus," he whispered. "You have to focus."

It took a long moment, and Sirius could feel Remus shaking with the effort it was costing him, but eventually those impossibly strong hands loosened their grip on his arms. He pulled back slowly and saw the strain on Remus' face. "Okay?" he asked.

Remus nodded slowly, but ran one of his hands up Sirius' arm and touched his face before sliding into his hair as if he could not stop himself from touching him. Sirius smiled, fighting the urges rising in his own body. His heart swelled in his chest as he realized that this beautiful, tormented man was his -- for better or for worse Remus was finally his.

He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the wand Snape had left there. He carefully closed one of Remus' hands around it. Remus' breath caught in his throat at the sensation, no doubt feeling the little thrill of magic that accompanied contact with his wand after so long. "Now focus, Moony," Sirius told him and began guiding him through the basics steps of the Animagus transformation -- from the visualization, to the build-up of magic, to the release of the spell -- verbal at this point -- and the deliberate metamorphosis of the body. It had been over twenty years since he had first gone through this, but the process had become instinct to him. He kept up a running monologue, guiding Remus through each step of the process, encouraging him, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

The first transformation took nearly ten minutes to complete, but eventually Remus body shifted -- painlessly -- into the startling familiar shape of Moony. Rarely had Sirius seen him with human eyes. The Wolvesbane potion had made it safe for humans to remain with him, but Sirius had always transformed into Padfoot to keep him company. Seeing him now while still in human form made him realize just how fearsome a creature Moony truly was. Padfoot was large -- but Moony dwarfed him. The wolf was a mass of muscle, fangs and claws, his jaws powerful enough to crush any bone in his body. Not a true wolf at all -- but the feared Hell Hound of stories.

Sirius gently ran his fingers through the dark thick fur, staying utterly still while Moony sniffed his neck once again. This was the ultimate act of trust -- one misstep, one mistake in either the potion or Remus' concentration and Moony could kill him or infect him with one bite.

"Change back now," he urged softly, keeping his voice low in case he startled the creature. He prayed Remus was still in there, and could understand his words.

A moment later he felt another surge of magic and watched in awe as Moony began the slow transformation back into Remus Lupin.

He could tell Remus was exhausted after the transformation was completed, but the look of utter joy on his face was indescribable. Sirius couldn't help himself; he kissed him hard and fast, his own grin uncontainable. "I knew you could do it," he whooped in joy. "My Moony!"

Remus just laughed, beyond words at the experience.

"Now, you have to do it again," Sirius urged. "I know you're tired. But it will be easier each time you do it." He glanced at the clock. Another five minutes had ticked by. "You have to do it as many times as possible until I tell you stop. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded, accepting his word. His hand tightened once again on his wand.

Over the course of the next forty minutes, Remus transformed again and again, continuing on long after he thought he could go no farther simply because Sirius urged him to. He was too drained to even lift his wand when he finished the last one, and lay utterly done-in on the bed, nearly sobbing in exhaustion when Sirius at last told him he was finished. Sirius conjured a damp cloth and gently wiped down his face, kissing him softly as he lay too weak to move. Conjuring a glass of water, he raised Remus' head and helped him gulp down the liquid. Then he raised his own wand and send off his Patronus -- the glowing white wolf he loved so utterly -- racing to summon Harry and the others.

He didn't have long to wait. Harry was the first one through the door, despite the fact that Sirius was certain Snape was trying to hold him back. The look on the boy's face was priceless as he saw the two of them together -- Remus lying exhausted on the bed and Sirius sitting beside him. It was the warm amber eyes of a human that opened to greet him. "Remus!" Harry cried, and raced to their side, throwing his arms around both of them in relief.

Remus too exhausted to do much more, simply patted him gently on the back, a faint smile stretching his lips. Sirius just grinned at both of them and glanced up rather smugly at Snape and Dumbledore.

"Still in one piece, I see," the snarky Potion Master said, but despite everything, their turbulent history and the tensions between them, the man looked relieved.

"Thank you," Sirius said, shocking the man utterly. No doubt he never expected to hear such words from his lips, but Sirius was too happy right now to care. "Your potion worked."

Uncertain how to respond, Snape merely inclined his head.

"Well, now," Dumbledore said happily. "Let's see about getting you out of here, Remus. I think you've been locked up in this chamber long enough as it is."

"How long?" Remus asked hoarsely. He'd had no sense of time while asleep.

"It's Easter Break," Harry told him. "It's been months. We've missed you."

Remus just smiled at that, touched beyond words. Shaking still with exhaustion, he allowed Sirius and Harry to help him to his feet and the five of them exited the Chamber of Secrets to rejoin the living.

-------------------------

When Remus next awoke he found himself lying in his familiar bed in the room Dumbledore had given him in Hogwarts. Someone had changed or transfigured his clothing into pajamas, and despite the events of the last few days -- months -- he felt surprisingly refreshed, if not a bit hungry.

Opening his eyes he found himself staring up at a smiling Sirius Black who sat on the edge of his bed watching him. Sirius' scent surrounded him and he suspected that his friend had not left his side since he got there. He felt the wolf stirring inside him, hungry as always for his mate, but for once the sensation did not fill him with alarm. The wolf felt contained, at peace, as if no longer at war with his more human nature.

"Welcome back, Moony!" Sirius said brightly, his grin rivaling the sunlight streaming in through the tall narrow windows along the far wall.

Remus reached out and took hold of his friend's hand, smiling when Sirius clasped him back just as tightly. His thoughts were clearing at last -- he remembered some of what Sirius had told him when he'd been fighting his way up out of the feral madness that had gripped him. Gods, the madness! That seemed like a nightmare now -- had he hurt anyone he wondered, had he damaged any part of the world he so desperately wanted to protect? He vaguely remembered an overwhelming desire to kill -- Draco Malfoy, was it? Had he harmed the boy?

Draco Malfoy had tried to take his mate -- the angry demands of the wolf were still there in the back of his mind, but Remus pushed them aside. The rational human mind knew the blame was entirely Lucius Malfoy's, not his son's. How strange it was to be able to silence the wolf so easily -- though the desire to grab hold of Sirius and never let him go was not so easy to suppress. But then again he supposed that desire did not belong to the wolf alone. But why was it so easy -- had Severus' potion worked then?

"Sirius, I'm sorry--" he began only to be cut off.

"Don't you dare apologize!" Sirius ordered firmly. "We've been through this before. You don't own anyone an apology. Let it go, Moony."

Let it go? Remus blinked uncertainly. Just like -- let it go -- when he didn't even know what results his madness had wrought? And really he did have so much to apologize for -- not just for losing control as he had, but for denying Sirius all these months that the man had been pursuing him. He shouldn't have hesitated -- did he truly doubt that Sirius loved him? Fickle and flighty the man might be, but he had never been a liar.

"But are you. . ." he wasn't certain how to ask the question.

"Entirely yours," Sirius assured him. "Unattached, unmarried, free -- except for the whole wanted-for-a-murder-I-didn't-commit thing -- and utterly in love with a certain former-werewolf who seems incapable of understanding what a great catch I really am."

Unable to help himself, Remus grasped a handful of Sirius' shirt and pulled him down on top of him, catching his mouth in a fierce kiss. He had little experience with kissing -- guessed he was rather unskilled in this arena -- but then again this was really more about tasting the man in his arms and the wolf knew how to do that more than adequately. Judging by the moan Sirius made, Remus guessed there were no complaints. It didn't take Sirius long to take control of the kiss, and before he knew it Remus was lost in a haze of sensation, wondering why he had been so reluctant before.

Eventually Sirius had to come up for air, but the look on his face as he gazed down at him was one Remus knew he'd never forget. Had those blue eyes ever shone so brightly before? It was as if all the shadows of Azkaban and the darkness of war were momentarily lifted from him leaving nothing more than the beautiful, brilliant young man he'd known in his childhood. Remus' heart swelled with emotion.

"I love you," he told him, wishing now he'd confessed such a glorious thing all those years ago when he'd first seen Sirius Black at their sorting in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. It was as true then as it was now.

"Yes, you do!" Sirius agreed joyfully as he leaned down to kiss him again.

Remus moaned this time, sliding his arms around his body and pulling him closer. He couldn't seem to get close enough, craving the heat seeping into him from the other man's lean form. When Sirius slipped one of his legs between his own, Remus gasped at the sensation, arching up into the pressure. The wolf wanted to devour the man, take what was his; the human inside him wanted to see where Sirius would guide him. Potion or not, Remus could still feel the inhuman strength of the wolf flowing through his veins and knew he could take control of any physical contact between them. He very carefully stroked his hands down the man's back, purposely keeping his touch light and gentle. Later, he promised the wolf, and the human took precedence.

It took Sirius no time at all to figure out that this time Remus was not going to hesitate, not going to refuse his advances, and like any true Gryffindor he took full advantage of the discovery. He tugged and pulled at the pajama top Remus was wearing until the buttons snapped off, baring his skin to his touch.

Remus fought down the sense of shame that threatened him; he hated the scars that marred his body. But whatever fears he might have had were soothed quickly under the gentle touch of Sirius Black. His body burned when Sirius trailed fingers and then lips over the long lines of those scars, and worshiped his body as if he were a work of art. The quiet whispers of endearments were a balm to his soul and even the wolf settled down into the heady euphoria overwhelming his senses.

He wanted more skin contact and he pulled eagerly at Sirius' clothing, uncovering the body he was more familiar with. Sirius had never been body-shy -- as a teenager he had changed in front of him without any hint of embarrassment. That had not changed as an adult, and it had only been Remus' own propriety that had kept from doing anything more than stealing a brief glimpse here and there. Now he looked his full, touching the firm, smooth skin and the long lines of muscles he'd always admired. Despite the fact that the wolf made him far stronger than anyone he knew, Sirius had always been taller than him, more heavily muscled. Even Azkaban had not robed him of that beauty.

Eventually between the two of them, they shed all their clothing and lay together exploring each other with eager hands and mouths. Remus continually fought down his inherent shyness and the hesitancy that came with each new sensation, but Sirius it seemed was fearless and eagerly showed him things he'd only read about and hadn't quite believed real at the time.

More than once he found himself gasping and crying out in pleasure, overwhelmed by both the physical sensations burning through him and the emotions welling in his heart and soul. By the time Sirius entered his body, pushing hard and deep into him, both wolf and man were in utter harmony with the belief that there was nothing more perfect in existence than this heat, this love. He howled when he came, and heard Sirius crying out his name in unison. My mate, Moony growled. Finally, my mate!

Later, sated but happy, the two of them lay together in each other arms while Sirius filled Remus in on the events he had missed during his long sleep in the Chamber of Secrets. Remus had blushed and covered his face in embarrassment when he learned about how the feral transference had affected the various people who'd been in the room. Molly's pregnancy, even more than Charlie's sudden pursuit of Draco, made him groan in mortification.

"Oh, and Snape is in love with Harry," Sirius told him. "Only I don't know if that had anything to do with the feral transference. At least it better not have had anything to do with it. I'll have to kill him if he's touched Harry."

"How do you know he's in love with him?" Remus asked in surprise, more amazed by this piece of news than he had been about Charlie and Draco. But then again, he'd seen the way Snape had behaved in the Winter Lands -- he supposed it shouldn't surprise him.

Sirius just shrugged. "Just something he said earlier. And like a typical Slytherin he's completely unable to deal with it. I think there must be something wrong with Slytherins in general -- the moment some bright and positive emotion touch their shriveled hearts, their brains fry -- kind of like a vampire in the sunlight. Or a snail when you shake salt on them."

Ignoring the rather gross description, Remus asked, "What about Harry? Is he also. . ."

"Please!" Sirius protested. "It's Snape we're talking about. Harry may be young, but he's not crazy. He has better tastes than that! Besides I think I've nearly convinced Harry to enter a monastery anyway. Though I guess we'll have to be more. . .nice. . .to Snape now. After all he did cure you."

Remus frowned at that, remembering something else Sirius had said earlier. He'd called him a former-werewolf. "We won't actually know if the potion worked until the next full moon," Remus reminded him. "I mean the Animagus portion worked -- but there is always the chance I will still lose control and transform on the full-moon."

But Sirius just grinned at him as if he'd pulled the most amazing prank in the world. "Moony," he said gleefully. "You've been asleep for two days. The full moon was last night. You didn't even wake up for it."

Last night? Remus stared at him in shock. A full-moon had risen and set and he hadn't even noticed? No transformation -- no painful breaking of bones and tendons, no screaming in agony as his body twisted and writhed beneath the torture of lunar madness.

A wash of emotion swelled inside him, a sob breaking free of his lips as decades of desperation overwhelmed him all at once. He felt Sirius gathering him tightly into his arms, and he buried his face against his sweet smelling skin as he cried for the long years of suffering from which he had at last been freed.

-------------------------------------------

Author's note:

Took me a while to figure out how to work out the dynamics of this particular couple. Moony is very obviously an alpha male, but Remus isn't - despite his strength and his tendency to put certain disobedient puppies in their place when they become too unruly. I could have just as easily written this with Remus as a rather aggressive, dominant lover --but as the man literally had no experience at all, it seemed unlikely. No doubt the two of them (3 of them if you count the wolf) will figure things out as they go along.

Incidentally -- I've been trying to answer all my email, but I'm way behind on it. I currently have around 4000 messages sitting in my inbox and I'm having a hard time getting through all of them. Lots of people have been asking me for permission to translate this story, and I'm more than happy to agree, provided the translations maintain all my author information and disclaimers. To date it is being translated into Hungarian, Russian, German, Spanish, and Dutch. I'll post URLs to my web site when the story is finally complete.

As far as artwork -- I don't have specific permission from any artist to post URLs here (not to mention that ff is not very nice about allowing URLs in the body of a story), but I have noticed two very nice pieces on deviantart dot com. Do a search on "the marriage stone" and you'll find a wonderful sketch by Germa of Severus carrying Harry back from Hogsmeade after he'd been attacked. Then do a search for "Julius Snape" and you'll find a lovely anime-style drawing of Julius cornering Harry in the rose maze by migihayami. If anyone knows of any other artwork, please drop me a line and let me know.

I find writing this way -- posting a chapter as I finish it -- very odd from a writer's perspective. It isn't unusual to be in the middle of writing a scene when you suddenly realize that the way you have written it just isn't going to work. So you have to go back and restructure the whole thing -- but often that means going back SEVERAL scenes and changing things just so you can set up the new scene. If I've already 'published' the scenes that need changing, it's rather difficult to 'fix' anything.

I have about another 15,000 words beyond this chapter written -- but I keep rewriting the last scene in this sequence over and over again, because it just doesn't want to come out right. Each time I do a rewrite, I have to go back and change something else. So please bear with me while I work out the bugs. I'm writing as fast as I can.

And yes, you'll be get an explanation for Harry's reaction to the 'kiss' fairly soon. I won't just skip over it.


	55. Chapter 55 Legal Maneuvers

Chapter 55 - Legal Maneuvers

Two days later Harry sat in Dumbledore's office next to Remus and Sirius while the three of them waited for Dumbledore and Severus to join them. Harry desperately wanted to talk to both Remus and Sirius -- separately. But he suspected it would be a while yet before he found any time with either of them alone. He could see that something major had changed in their relationship -- they were sitting on a couch together, which in itself was not unusual. But the fact that the fingers of their hands, which were resting on the couch cushion, were intertwined was very telling indeed.

It didn't surprise him in the slightest, this change in their relationship. Not after everything the two of them had gone through. But he was burning with curiosity to know more. He just didn't want to talk to them together -- somehow the idea of asking them something so personal in front of both them was too embarrassing to contemplate. Especially since he had very different questions for each.

Because of the whole werewolf thing, he knew Remus had been as inexperienced about things as Harry himself was. He wanted to know how 'it' had been -- though he guessed asking someone he considered a father figure something like that would probably be awkward in the extreme.

As for Sirius -- he wanted to know if he was happy now, content in such an exclusive relationship after having lived a more active life prior to this. Of course he didn't suppose he would ever get the courage up to ask either of them any such things. Instead he was left to simply grin like an idiot at the two of them because he was so happy they were finally together. So happy that the two of them looked so content in their relationship with one another.

As often happened these days his mind drifted to Severus. Ever since that night when he'd kissed him, things had been awkward between them. He found himself thinking about that kiss at odd moments during the day, replaying it in his mind so often that he was fairly certain by now that he'd blown the whole thing out of proportion. It couldn't possibly mean all the things he had imagined it might mean. Had Severus been jealous -- didn't seem likely that a man like Severus Snape would be jealous of someone like Lavender Brown. Nor did it seem likely that he would be jealous over Harry. That would imply a much stronger degree of affection.

But no, it didn't have to be affection, he reasoned. It could simply be possessiveness, or a sense of propriety or decorum, or possibly just concern about their reputation. He'd certainly been angry -- he'd been shouting at him after all. It could be any of those things -- or none of them. Harry was thinking like a Gryffindor, and Severus was a Slytherin. Who knew why Slytherins did the things they did?

And then most troubling of all was the fact that Severus had failed to answer his question about whether or not he was seeing anyone. That more than anything else twisted Harry's thoughts inside his head -- it was possible he supposed that Severus was a having a Slytherin moment of hypocrisy, reading into Harry interaction with the Gryffindor girls some sin he himself had committed.

Confused as he was, Harry had been left with only one alternative -- spying. He began spying on the man -- well as much as it was possible to spy on a person who'd actually BEEN a spy for real. Mostly he just watched him around the other teachers, trying to figure out which one of them -- if any -- he might secretly be seeing. There weren't many candidates to choose from. Sinistra was the only single teacher of suitable age, and as far as he knew Severus was about twenty years too old to interest her.

McGonagall was out of the question -- single yes, but too old and stuffy. Trelawney didn't even bear thinking about. Madam Hooch was a distinct possibility -- she was quite a bit older than Severus, but she was still fit and attractive, and Severus enjoyed sword fighting with her. Harry had watched several of their sparing matches over the last few months. Hooch was married, however, which made her an unlikely match. But then again after everything he'd learned, perhaps marriage was no deterrent at all?

And if he was ruling out marriage as a deterrent, he supposed he'd have to consider the two Vectors -- Professor Vector was very attractive, and her husband, who worked at Gringotts, equally so. Either one of them could be a possibility. Or both. . .though Harry had a hard time getting his mind around that concept. There was a rumor floating around Gryffindor Tower about someone in Hufflepuff being involved in a threesome, but most of the students had dismissed it as hearsay -- how likely was that for a Hufflepuff?

Regardless, Harry had not yet seen any behavior that would lead him to believe that Severus had any interest in his fellow professors. And he was never around anyone else -- except on Hogsmeade weekends.

Harry no longer went to Hogsmeade, not since the day he'd been attack so many months ago. The risk was too great -- and with the press always lying in wait for him, it would be pointless to go. The only time he even stepped outside Hogwart's wards these days was for his weekly Apparating lessons, but those were done under the strict supervision of several trustworthy Aurors.

Severus, however, often left the castle on the weekends to go down to the village. Harry supposed it was entirely possible that he was meeting someone there. Either way, he was certainly being discreet about it -- which had probably been the whole point Severus had been trying to make when he'd accused Harry of carrying on Lavender and Parvati.

Not that he cared of course.

He didn't.

Severus could do whatever he wanted. The fact that the thought twisted something inside Harry's stomach and made him want to kick things was completely coincidental. He didn't care at all what Severus chose to do in his private life -- as long as he was discreet about it. Harry thought he was being very mature about the whole thing --- stupid Slytherin!

If Severus had just answered his dumb question, he wouldn't be left wondering about such things. Not that he was going to ask again -- how humiliating had that been! 'Are you having sex?' He wanted to hide in shame every time he thought about that moment.

Stupid Slytherin! The man never should have kissed him. If he hadn't kissed him, Harry wouldn't be wondering about any of this. Certainly those disturbing dreams he'd been having would not now be featuring the distinctive form of Severus Snape instead of some nameless, faceless man who'd been far easier to accept. And sword lessons had been hard enough before the incident -- now they were fraught with new traps and pitfalls as he wondered each time the man touched him if there was something more behind the contact. Life would be far simpler if he could go back to the way things were before when the two of them simply hated each other -- except he rather liked the idea of belonging to a family and was finding the idea of ever giving that up less and less appealing.

Stupid Slytherin!

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Sirius voice caught him off guard and he looked up to find both Sirius and Remus staring at him curiously. "You're glaring awfully hard at your shoes. Did they do something awful?"

Harry blushed. "No, of course not," he said quickly. "I was just thinking about. . ."

"About?" Sirius prompted. "Homework? Detention? Flobberworms?"

"Summer!" Harry said, surprising both of them. "What am I going to do this summer?"

Sirius frowned at that. "Most students look forward to summer."

"I meant am I going to be going back to the Dursleys?" It was actually something Harry had thought a lot about -- and considering the direction his thoughts had been going lately, it was a concern. What did Severus do during the summers? Did he hurry off to some exotic location and have affairs with mysterious people?

"You won't ever be going back to the Dursleys," Sirius said firmly, something dark flashing in his eyes. "But I don't honestly know what Snape does over the summer. It would be far safer for you to remain here at Hogwarts, especially since we have no idea what Voldemort might be up to."

Harry shivered at that. He tried not to think about Voldemort -- actually he tried not to think about a lot of things these days. Like the fact that he was about to accompany Remus to the Ministry of Magic to face a formal inquiry to determine if he should be euthanised. Despite Draco's marriage to Charlie, the arrest warrant for Remus was still active -- rather than risk yet another fugitive from the law, Dumbledore thought it would be best to answer the summons directly. He'd arranged a full session of the Wizengamot to meet today to deal with the issue once and for all.

"I'm not certain if Severus likes to remain in the castle or not," Remus added. "I think he typically travels during the summer. But you're right, it wouldn't be safe for Harry to do so."

Harry guessed that meant that whatever plans there might be for him during the summer, it would involve Severus. Surprisingly he felt some sense of relief at that thought. Severus' rooms down the dungeons were more home to him than anything else had ever been. And he'd miss the man if they parted for such a long period of time. Though how strange was that thought!

The door opened a moment later and both Severus and Dumbledore entered at last. Severus had a small leather satchel slung over one shoulder. Harry knew it would contain a sample of the Lycanthropy Potion as well as the formal notes he would submit with it to the Department of Potion Research. Severus would be a witness for Remus' defense at the hearing today.

"Are we ready then?" Dumbledore asked, looking over his glasses at Remus. Remus and Sirius both stood, and though they tried to hide it, Harry noticed that they gripped one another's hand more firmly. Sirius, of course, would not be going, unable to show his face in public still. Instead Harry would be accompanying Remus -- they all decided that for once they would put Harry's fame to their own use. If something went wrong, Harry would use his fame to raise hell with the press.

Harry moved toward Dumbledore's private floo, Severus joining him as they allowed Sirius and Remus a brief moment to say good-bye to one another. Harry feared for Remus and the outcome of the hearing, though Dumbledore seemed confident that things would work out. He could only imagine what Sirius must be feeling being left behind, helpless to do anything to defend the man.

A glance back at the two men revealed a rather heated kissed between them, and Harry felt himself blush even as he fought down a smile. He shot a nervous glance at Severus only to discover that the man was watching him in amusement, his dark eyes taking in the color in his cheeks, missing nothing. All Harry could think about was the kiss Severus had given him and he shifted uncomfortably beneath that scrutiny. Why did Severus have to have such intense eyes, and why did every look he gave Harry seem to mock him for some youthful foolishness that he couldn't help? He momentarily contemplated kicking the man in the shins just to see his reaction to that.

Remus joined them a moment later, and Dumbledore held out the floo powder for all of them. Severus went through first, followed by Harry. Just before he tossed the powder into the fire, he glanced back at his godfather, noting the pale face and worried blue eyes. He smiled encouragingly at the man, and then flooed into the Ministry of Magic.

Severus caught hold of Harry's arm as he stumbled ungracefully out of the fireplace and into the busy transportation hallway where people were flooing in and out of the Ministry building through dozens of fireplaces lining the wall. No sooner had he righted himself, and Severus had cleaned him of soot with a wave of his wand, when the flashing of a dozen different lights bursting in his face startled him. Harry stumbled again in shock, instinctively moving closer to Severus who pulled him into his side.

Reporters with cameras swarmed toward them, despite the line of red-clad Aurors that were waiting around their floo to hold them back. It seemed word of their arrival had preceded them. Harry recognized several of the Aurors -- including Connor Stark and Kingsley Shaklebolt in the mix of guards that were waiting to escort them to the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Potter!" a dozen reporters shouted at him, trying to get his attention from beyond the barricade of Aurors. He recognized many of them from the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly -- but judging by the number of reporters he suspected they must represent over a hundred different papers and magazines. Knowing that Britain didn't have that many newspapers, he guessed many of them must be from other countries -- though why he would be of interest to anyone outside Britain he didn't know.

"Mr. Potter!" someone shouted. "What is your stance on the Wizarding Registration Act?"

"Mr. Potter!" another man shouted. "Do you have plans to annex any other British Protectorates?"

"Mr. Potter! Is it true you have entered negotiations with the King of France to begin trade with the Winter Lands?"

"Mr. Potter! Rumor has it you are going to give the Black Wyrms full citizenship status! Any comments?"

"Mr. Potter! Who do you support for the upcoming elections?"

"Mr. Potter! Any truth to the rumor that you are going to run for Minister of Magic?"

"Mr. Potter! Is it true you are having an affair with Pharaoh Nitocris of Egypt?"

"Mr Potter! What is your opinion of the Wand Certification Doctrine?"

"Mr. Potter! Do you support the Alliance Precedence Act?"

"Mr. Potter! Any truth to the rumors that you will be spending the summer with the Shelong brothers of the Chinese Imperium?"

As the reporters' questions grew louder, Severus stepped in front of Harry, shielding him with his body while they waited for Remus and then Dumbledore to step out of the fireplace. One glance at the situation told Dumbledore and Remus what was going on, and they both moved to Harry's side, all three men shielding him with their bodies. At a nod from Dumbledore, the Aurors closed ranks and they began moving swiftly down the hallway, ushering the four of them toward the elevators beyond. While the majority of the Aurors held back the members of the press, Shaklebolt and Stark along with two other Aurors entered the elevators with the group.

"Sorry about that," Stark remarked as he pushed the button to take them down to level ten of the Ministry of Magic where the Wizengamot was meeting.

"How did they find out that Harry would be here?" Severus demanded angrily. Harry was still trying to clear his eyes of the blinding effects of all the flash-bulbs going off in his face.

"They didn't," Stark shrugged. "They read the public docket and saw that Lupin would be in court today. They arrived on the off chance that Mr. Potter would be with them. It was easy for them to figure out what floo you were coming through -- we were told by the Minister to have a large group of Aurors waiting for Lupin. We were led to believe he would not be entirely. . .rational." He glanced up and down at Remus. Remus was dressed very conservatively in an old tweed suit not unlike what he used to wear when he taught at Hogwarts -- he was a far cry from the image of the leather-clad, mace-wielding warrior who had been on the front page of the Prophet all those months ago. Nonetheless the other two Aurors were eyeing him cautiously -- he was a known werewolf, and their strength was legendary.

Remus just smiled pleasantly at all of them, looking as inconspicuous as possible. He did not seem offended by the scrutiny, but Harry bristled under the stares.

"As you see, Mr. Lupin is fine," Dumbledore informed them, giving the two wary Aurors a stern look from beneath his glasses. Shaklebolt, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was unperturbed, and to date Harry had never seen anything in particular bother Stark. He had little idea where the man's loyalties were, but he'd taken most things in stride.

"So I see," Stark agreed. "There will a ward keeping the press out of the main corridor of the courtroom, and they will not be allowed into the courtroom itself. But the courtroom will be quite crowded today regardless. "

The elevator came to a stop and the door slid open. More Aurors were waiting outside along with another large group of reporters who began shouting questions as they all emerged into the hallway. They were all ushered swiftly away from the corridors toward the main entrance to the Wizengamot courtroom. While Harry, his companions and the Aurors had no problem entering the entrance hall, the reporters were all stopped short by a glowing wall of light.

"Press Wards," Shaklebolt told him quietly. "Best invention since the broomstick." The wards kept out the shouting voices as well, leaving all of them in relative silence as they approached the courtroom doors. Through other hallways and doorways men and women were coming and going -- all glancing eagerly over at their group, but none stopping to talk.

Rather than lead them directly into the courtroom, Stark motioned to a door further down the hallway. "I need to take Mr. Lupin into custody and register his wand," Stark informed them. "Professor Dumbledore you are welcome to accompany him." He glanced over at Snape. "I understand you will be a witness for the defense. It's best if you're not questioned prior to the start of the hearing -- Shaklebolt will remain here with you and escort you inside when they are ready to start."

The firm hand that Severus dropped onto Harry's shoulder let him know precisely whom he was supposed to remain with, but he watched in some trepidation as Remus and Dumbledore were led away by Stark and the other two Aurors. Shaklebolt just gave him an encouraging smile as he leaned causally against the stone wall of the hallway, seeming unconcerned with the events.

Harry sighed and looked away, glancing back toward the glowing wall of light at the other end of the hallway that kept the press from reaching them.

"Why are the foreign press here?" he asked Severus instead, wondering what possible interest his presence could be to the other countries of the world.

Severus' features tightened, his lips thinning as he glared down the hall at the waiting reporters. "I wouldn't let it concern you," he told Harry in a tone of voice that suggested to Harry that it DID concern him greatly. Severus was obviously extremely unhappy about their presence.

"And what's this about a Pharaoh, and who are the Shelong brothers?" Harry pressed, wondering if perhaps Severus knew more about the political climate in the rest of the world than he did. He was having a hard enough time keeping all the British news straight -- between the political intrigues and new laws being passed, he didn't know what to believe any more. Since he'd returned from the Winter Lands, there had been three assassination attempts on various Minister candidates, including Cornelius Fudge. Surprisingly none of these attempts were linked to any Death Eater activities.

While Fudge was still considered a forerunner in the campaign, simply because he was the current incumbent, Madam Bones and Alexander Mulburg had pulled ahead of him in the polls. There was even a movement to start a write-in campaign to elect various Quidditch players to all the positions of authority in the Ministry -- a protest-action of a people who couldn't figure out what their government was up to.

Harry looked expectantly at Severus, waiting for an answer to his question about the Pharaoh and the Shelong brothers. If anything Severus grew only more irritated, his eyes flashing with anger. "I wouldn't let it concern you," he said again.

"But why would they suggest something like that?" Harry asked, wondering where this piece of gossip had come from. When they had accused him of dating Hermione back in fourth-year, there had at least been a reason for it. He spent a lot of time with Hermione. It was easy enough to draw such conclusions. "I've never even been to Egypt or China? I've never even heard of those people." Up until recently he hadn't even been aware of the fact that Egypt still had a pharaoh -- and he had no idea what the Chinese Imperium might be.

"It's just wild speculation," Severus informed him with a dark frown. "They've got nothing better to talk about so they're making things up now."

Dissatisfied with the answer, Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall near Shaklebolt. The Auror did not seem inclined to offer any suggestions either. He wondered about the other questions he'd been asked as well -- the Wand Certification Doctrine, the Alliance Precedence Act. He wondered if Hermione would know what they were talking about?

More wizards and witches entered the courtroom through the main doors -- most of them dressed in formal robes, and Harry was glad now that Severus had picked out his clothes for him that morning. He had thought the outfit Severus had removed from his wardrobe, too fancy -- and rather archaic looking. He'd started to get used to the doublets -- but today he was wearing a long sleeved silk tunic of the palest green, and dark form fitting moleskin pants and leather boots. Over that he had a sleeveless, knee length robe of dark green, the opened-front held fastened together by ornate silver clasps. Severus was dressed in a similar outfit of silver and black, and looked decidedly imposing beside him.

"Severus!" a cheerful voice greeted them a moment later, and Harry looked up to see an extremely old man in a white robe approaching them. Unlike Dumbledore he did not have a long beard but was clean-shaven, his head completely bald. As Harry had seen very few bald wizards, he suspected the man had shaved his head. Beside the old man walked a far younger man with golden hair and sharp angular features. He, like Severus, was dressed in black and silver.

"Master Dorester," Severus greeted with a very formal and respectful bow, catching Harry's attention immediately. Who ever the old man was, he was obviously someone Severus respected highly.

"Wonderful to see you, my boy!" the old man greeted, and enthusiastically shook Severus' hand. "You know my assistant of course!" he motioned to the golden-haired man beside him.

Severus turned to shake the other man's hand, and Harry noted the faint smile that touched his lips. "Of course, how are you Andre?"

More telling than Severus' smile was the bright gleam that lit up the golden-haired man's shrewd eyes. "Excellent! You're looking well, Severus," the man replied, and a shiver of . . .something. . .went through Harry's body. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Andre was nearly as tall as Severus, slender in form, his angular features handsome enough. His voice was extremely cultured, his clothing very well-tailored, and he had a sharp intelligence in his eyes that reminded Harry of Hermione or McGonagall.

Politely, Severus turned toward Harry to introduce him and Harry pushed himself away from the wall to shake the hands offered. "Harry, this is Master Elliott Dorester of the Potion Makers Guild. I trained under him for several years. And this is Andre Serrent, a. . .colleague of mine." Harry heard the faint pause in Severus' voice before the word 'colleague', and noted the appraising look the blond man gave him as he shook his hand. Though Harry smiled at both strangers, and greeted them cordially, a spark of anger flared inside Harry. One thing was certain -- Andre was no 'colleague'.

"My congratulations on your marriage," Master Dorester said happily, without once glancing at Harry's rather distinctive scar on his forehead -- Harry felt an instant kinship with the man because of it.

"Indeed," Andre replied with a somewhat superior smile as his sharp gaze went immediately to Harry's scar. "Such a match, Severus," he smiled. "How fortunate you are."

Severus merely inclined his head in response, his expression giving nothing away.

"The word is you have an exciting announcement for us, Severus?" Dorester pressed, looking curiously at the satchel Severus still had slung over his shoulder. "Going to turn the Potions World on its head once again? Always were my brightest pupil!" He glanced over his shoulder toward the door, seeing more people entering the courtroom. "Come, Andre, we must get our seats. Come for lunch soon, Severus. I can't wait to catch up with you. Mr. Potter, a pleasure!"

The old man shook their hands again quite enthusiastically before hurry off toward the courtroom, calling on Andre to follow. Andre merely smirked, moving at a far more leisurely pace. "Yes, do come for lunch soon, Severus," he urged with a smile, before inclining his head to Harry and following after the old man.

Harry waited until they were gone from sight before speaking. "A colleague?" he asked pointedly, pushing down the emotion churning inside him. Already tensed with worry over the hearing, he felt the muscles in his shoulders knotting tightly together.

Severus gave him a sharp glance. "I met him at a potions conference last summer," he explained calmly.

Harry just glared down at the floor in response. Well, that answered the question about how Severus liked to spend his summers. Something sharp and painful twisted in Harry's chest. He noted dispassionately that he was about as far from Andre in looks and personality as he could get. The man was elegant, cultured and likely a Potion Master too boot. Intelligent then -- perhaps extremely intelligent. He was also closer in age to Severus -- no doubt sophisticated and worldly, and all the things Harry was not.

He didn't care, he decided with a silent growl. It was none of his business. And if he wanted to kick something violently over and over again -- well it was just because. . .the press had angered him earlier. Mr. Andre Serrent could take his lunch and shove it up his. . . .Harry huffed in irritation. Yet, another thing to stop thinking about. He wasn't going to dwell on the thought that someone -- anyone -- might come between him and the person he was coming to see has his family. He'd learned to live without the Dursleys -- he certainly didn't need Severus Snape's attention. . .Harry's heart ached at the thought. He pushed all the thoughts into the back of his mind -- he wouldn't think about it. Wouldn't care.

An Auror emerged from a courtroom a moment later and nodded to Shaklebolt. Shaklebolt immediately straighten, catching Harry's and Severus' attention. "Looks like they're ready to start," he informed them both. "We'll go sit in the gallery. Albus will call you when he needs you to witness."

Harry followed Shaklebolt into the courtroom, Severus following immediately behind. Nearly every eye in the room turned toward them as they entered, the loud whispering murmurs that rushed through the room swelling. As Harry took a reserved seat on the first tier of the gallery he saw the sea of plum-colored robes of the Wizengamot officials already seated in the high gallery. The rest of the room was crowded with observers. Seated in the center of the main floor on a lone chair was Remus Lupin, Dumbledore standing beside him. Harry was relieved to note that the shackles on the chair were not fastened. Remus had not been chained down.

The court was called into session, silence settling over the room as a man Harry did not know read out the charges of the Inquiry. A murmur of shock went through the room when Remus was accused of being feral, and was facing the possibility of euthanasia. Harry recognized a handful of younger people in the room who had gone to Hogwarts with him and graduated -- Remus had been their teacher for a year. And no doubt many other people in the room had been students when Remus himself had been a student. Harry also noticed Lucius Malfoy seated on the opposite side of the room, high up in the observer's gallery. The cold man was watching the proceedings curiously. Harry glared at him -- it was because of him that Remus was here in the first place.

When asked how he pleaded, Dumbledore spoke up. "Chief Interrogator, I move that we dismiss this Inquiry entirely."

More murmurs of surprise moved through the room. Minister Fudge, seated to the left of the man who'd been designated as Chief Interrogator leaned forward. "We can not have a motion until a plea is entered. And we can not dismiss any Inquiry until all the charges have been read."

There were a few nods of agreement, as well a few frowns of dissention at that statement.

"All the charges?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry felt a sharp spike of fear in his heart. There were new charges against Remus? "I was unaware of any further charges against Mr. Lupin other than the claims he was feral."

Madam Bones glanced briefly over at Fudge before nodded to Dumbledore. "The new charges were just added," she explained.

"Only because we did not know that Mr. Lupin had been out of the country," Fudge broke in quickly. They had all decided earlier that Remus would claim to have been out of the country, and had not known about the arrest warrant. His failure to turn himself in as well as all their complicity in harboring him would carry heavy penalties otherwise.

"I told you, Cornelius," Albus remarked. "Mr. Lupin did not know about the arrest warrant. He turned himself in to me -- an officer of the court -- immediately upon hearing of it. He has been in my custody since then, as was recorded when I requested this hearing. You can not charge him with . . ."

"That is not the charge," Cornelius interrupted in irritation. "Mr. Lupin is required by law to inform the Werewolf Registry within twenty-four hours of re-entering the country. Failure to do so is punishable by up to five years in Azkaban."

Five years in Azkaban! Harry felt the blood drain from his face and he shot a nervous glance at Severus. Severus merely watched the proceedings stoically, his features giving away nothing of his emotions.

"I see," Albus replied gravely. "Then I also move to have that charge dismissed as it is no longer relevant."

"No longer relevant?" Fudge exclaimed. "You can not make a second motion without first registering a plea."

The Chief Interrogator tapped his wand on the desk in front of him and the murmurs that were rising quieted down. "It is highly unusually to make a motion before the plea is entered, Albus," the man informed him.

Albus nodded his head in agreement. "But perfectly understandable when the charges themselves are not only utterly irrelevant, but also an illegal violation of a Wizard's civil rights."

More murmurs of shock moved through the crowd and Harry found himself chewing nervously on one of his thumbnail. He had no idea where Dumbledore was going with this. He glanced at Severus whose only response was to glare darkly at him until he stopped gnawing on his fingernail.

Again the Chief Interrogator tapped his wand for silence. "Care to explain your reasoning, Albus," the man sighed as if he were use to these odd events when Albus was involved.

Albus smiled. "Well, I think we can all see for ourselves that Mr. Lupin is far from feral."

Despite the fact that Remus had been sitting in the a chair in the center of the room in full view of everyone all this time, everyone in the room leaned forward or craned their necks to get a better look at him. He just sighed and crossed one leg over the other. Sitting there in his tweed suit, his amber eyes warm and gentle, he might have been waiting for a cup of tea to arrive rather than sitting trial for his life. Harry had to applaud the man's calm demeanor. He would not be so calm in a similar situation.

"Is this true, Mr. Lupin?" the Chief Interrogator asked. If anything people leaned closer to hear. Harry remembered Sirius telling him that feral werewolves did not talk.

"I admit to being disappointed that the Chudley Cannons lost another game last week, but I'd hardly call myself feral," Remus answered clearly. His words sparked a chuckle of laughter that moved throughout the room. Fudge, looking extremely irritated, glanced over at Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy's face revealed no emotion at all.

Harry couldn't help but wonder what Fudge hoped to gain from this proceeding. He had to know that if he detained Remus, then Harry would go straight to the press and scream bloody murder. Did he think to use Remus as some bargaining chip against him?

"Yes, well," Fudge replied -- faced with Remus' temperament they could hardly push a formal Inquiry. "But that still does not excuse the other charge. Why did you fail to register your re-entry into the country with the Ministry of Magic?"

"Ah, but there we have a problem, Cornelius," Albus informed him with a shake of his head. "Mr. Lupin did not register with the Werewolf Registry within twenty-four hours of re-entering the country simply because that within twenty-four hours of re-entering the country, he was no longer a werewolf."

Shouts of surprise as well as protests filled the room, moving through the crowd as everyone speculated about what precisely Albus might have meant.

"Furthermore!" Albus exclaimed, his voice rising above the noise. "As Mr. Lupin is no longer a werewolf, full citizenship rights are restored to him and as such this Inquiry is now an illegal act. It is illegal to arrest or detain a Wizard based on rumors that they are in a bad mood." Harry guessed by the way Dumbledore emphasized the word 'Wizard', that the law allowed such behavior toward werewolves.

This time the Chief Interrogator sent up a shower of sparks with his wand, accompanied by a loud bang to silence the crowd. "Albus, you know as well as the rest of us, that there is no cure for Lycanthropy. Mr. Lupin is a known werewolf, and as such does not have full-citizen rights."

"Ah, but there you are wrong," Albus replied with a smile. "There 'was' no cure for Lycanthropy. There is now as my witness, Potion Master Severus Snape, will explain to you."

"You can not call a witness for a motion -- especially a motion that has not been seconded!" Fudge exclaimed in protest.

"I second the motion then," a dark-haired man sitting to the right of Madam Bones spoke up. "I want to hear about this cure."

"You can not second the motion!" Fudge snapped again. "We can not have a motion until a plea has been entered."

But at that the Chief Interrogator shook his head. "We can not request a plea to an Inquiry that might be illegal. The court calls Severus Snape forward."

Harry watched in silence as Severus stood up gracefully, once again lifting the satchel he'd set by his feet and carrying it with him down to the main floor where he stood beside Dumbledore and Lupin. At the request of the Chief Interrogator Severus explained the workings of the Lycanthropy potion; while he talked he opened his satchel and removed two scrolls, which contained the details of his work. He handed one to the Chief Interrogator and gave the second one to Master Dorester who sat nearby in the observer's gallery. He also handed over a box to Master Dorester that he explained contained several vials of the potion for official Guild testing.

"And you conclude that Mr. Lupin is completely cured?" the Chief Interrogator demanded incredulously after Severus was done with his explanation.

Severus frowned at that. "I have further tests to run," he informed them. "However, based on the legal definition of a werewolf detailing the compulsory transformation on the night of the full moon, Mr. Lupin is no longer a werewolf. The moon had no effect on him two nights ago."

Whispers of shock circulated the room. "And you claim Mr. Lupin is now in fact an Animagus?" Madam Bone pressed curiously, her eyes once again on the mild looking man still sitting in the chair.

"Yes," Severus nodded his head in agreement.

"Prove it!" Fudge demanded angrily. And though his request was rude, it was obvious that the majority of the Wizengamot wanted this claim substantiated as well.

The Chief Interrogator inclined his head. "Mr. Lupin, the court asks that you prove your status as an Animagus by transforming."

Remus glanced up briefly at Albus who nodded encouragingly to him. Standing up, he closed his eyes in concentration. Harry held his breath -- he knew Remus had practiced this with Sirius, but this was still new to the man. And he was being forced to transform without the aid of his wand -- something some Animagi never mastered. Still if anyone could do it, Harry believed Remus could.

He'd seen Sirius transform frequently. When his godfather changed into Padfoot, the shift was almost instantaneous, the motion smooth and swift. So too was Professor McGonagall's transformation. Remus on the other hand was not so quick. The initial shift took a long tense moment, all eyes in the room on the man while they waited for something -- anything -- to happen.

And then Harry felt the faint rise of power that he'd come to sense as Remus' signature. He felt the shift of the energy as the man focused his magic inward. And then all at once the human form seemed to melt away from him, shifting and changing. A moment later Moony stood before the Wizengamot.

Unexpectedly people screamed in terror -- men and women scrambling out of their seats and backing away. Wands were drawn and aimed at the werewolf and might have shot spells if Albus Dumbledore had not raised his hand and shouted for calm, his voice magically amplified and silencing the room. Everyone froze, staring in silent terror at the werewolf in front of them. Moony, a truly fearsome and terrifying creature, merely sat down on his back haunches and began wagging his tail.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when he realized that no one was going to curse him. A quick glance at Severus revealed a look of utter contempt on the man's face. It was obvious that he did not think highly of the panicked men and women before him.

When it became obvious that the fearsome werewolf was not going to attack anyone, people once more began taking their seats.

Remus very slowly shifted back into his human form, shooting Harry a quick wink before sitting again the wooden chair in the center of the room.

"As you can see, Mr. Lupin is now an Animagus," Albus explained. "Not a werewolf. As such he is entitled to his full rights as a citizen. And before you ask, Cornelius," Albus held up his hand as the Minister was about to interrupt. "Yes, I have already filled out the appropriate paperwork officially registering him as an Animagus and submitted it to the Ministry."

Fudge frowned in irritation but settled back down again.

"But. . .but. . ." a blue-haired woman sitting a few chairs behind Fudge protested. "He transforms into a dangerous creature! He's a threat to society!"

Albus stared over his half-moon glasses at the woman in question. "Madam Bremington, I believe your father was also an Animagus. He took the form of a Blue Arrow Frog -- a creature highly poisonous. A single Arrow Frog has enough poison to kill one hundred people. Was he also a threat to society?"

The woman sputtered in shock for a moment before calming down, seeming to actually think over Albus' words.

"But this is highly irregular," Fudge protested. "We've never had an Animagus that could transform into a magical creature before."

"We've never had a cure for Lycanthropy before either," Albus reminded him. "This is a day to be celebrated."

Indeed Harry noticed that Master Dorester, as well as Andre, and a handful of other men and women he suspected were also from the Potions Guild were already looking over Severus' scroll, reading over Dorester's shoulder.

"Now, once again," Albus stated. "I move that this Inquiry be summarily dismissed, and all charges against Mr. Lupin dropped. What say the council?"

Faced with Dumbledore's request, the Chief Interrogator took the vote. Even Fudge and his handful of lackeys had no choice but to agree to the request. Remus Lupin was cleared of all charges.

------------------

Author's Notes:

No doubt I have massacred Robert's Rules of Parliamentary Law with my legal proceedings here, but I'm not going to worry about that too much.

As you can see Harry's reaction to the 'kiss' was typical for Harry. He's jealous as hell of the possibility that Severus might be seeing someone, but doesn't really understand what he's feeling. Severus isn't the only one who wouldn't recognize love it it bit him on the arse. Many have you been asking for such a thing -- Harry jealous for once about Severus. Figured it was about time someone appreciated Severus' value.

Andre, in case you were wondering, was mentioned in passing in a previous chapter -- I needed someone for Harry to focus his feelings of jealousy on.

Pharaoh Nitocris was an actual female Pharaoh of Egypt from the 6th dynasty. This Nitocris has no relationship to the historical figure, but I did like the idea of a female Pharaoh and I thought it fitting to give her such a name.

The Shelong brothers are entirely made up. As far as I know (I don't speak Chinese) 'long' (accent over the 'o') means 'imperial dragon'. And 'she' (accent over the 'e') means 'serpent'. I rather liked the idea of twin Slytherins ruling the 'Chinese Imperium'.

BTW -- I found another wonderful picture at deviantart dot com called 'Wolf at the Door' by septemnox. It's a great picture of Draco wearing the Dragon Gold. Thanks to everyone who pointed me toward it!


	56. Chapter 56 Chess Pieces

Chapter 56 - Chess Pieces

Half an hour later, Severus found himself back out in the corridor, waiting beside Harry while Lupin and Dumbledore dealt with the last of the legal issues and reclaimed Lupin's wand from the Aurors. After the case had been dismissed, they'd all been swarmed by people wanting to ask questions. Severus in particular had been swamped by questions from the other Potion Masters; he'd answered as best he could while still trying to keep close tabs on Harry. He was worried that if he looked away for a moment Harry would disappear into the crowd. Certainly he wouldn't put it past Fudge to whisk the boy away from him.

He'd detailed the potion in the scroll he'd given Master Dorester, though he'd been purposely vague about his source material. They had all agreed that they did not want Voldemort to find out that they had Slytherin's journals. As such, Severus claimed only that the potion instructions had come from 'an ancient source', which he pointedly refused to name. The full story would have to wait for a more peaceful time to come out.

Eventually Severus had managed to usher Harry back into the corridor. They'd watched as the group of Potion Masters headed off down the hallway toward the now empty exit. But the moment they had moved through the golden Press Ward that was still in effect, reporters, who'd been lying in wait around the corner, had descended upon them.

Watching the reporters now, Severus did not relish wading through them once again. Once had been enough. Their questions had alarmed him -- particularly the ones about the Pharaoh and the Shelong brothers of China. He suspected that some of those marriage proposals Albus had mentioned had come from them.

While he had never met Pharaoh Nitocris, he had seen pictures of her. She was young yet, only fifteen years old, but still considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. The Pharaonic Dynasties of Egypt had long ago stopped in-breeding amongst close family members and had instead begun searching the world for suitable mates, picking either magically powerful Wizards or Witches, or those with non-human lineages. Supposedly Nitocris had not only Veela blood in her veins, but also Kitsune blood from Asia. That she would be looking to Harry Potter as a future bond mate did not surprise Severus at all. He was equally certain that he did not want Harry to ever meet the girl.

As for the Shelong brothers -- he knew only stories about them. But they too were supposedly extremely handsome -- their bloodline boasted Imperial Dragon in their ancestry. While he did not know if those claims were true, he did know that both young men were highly sought after by royalty the world over. If he had his way, Harry would not be meeting them either.

He watched as the Potion Guild members spoke with the press at the far end of the hallway. Unlike him, they were not reluctant to talk -- no doubt word of the Lycanthropy cure as well as the full transcripts from Remus' trial would be in tomorrow's paper. Severus had already prepared a press release about his potion, which he'd given to Shaklebolt to hand over to the reporters later.

His eyes rested briefly on Andre Serrent who was speaking with a report from the Daily Prophet. A vague sense of unease stirred within him. He had not expected to run into him today -- he had not seen the man since the Potion Conference last summer. Their brief association had been pleasant; while the man was handsome, Severus had been far more attracted to his sharp mind. And certainly it had not been Severus' looks that had attracted Andre either. As far as he knew they had parted amicably. But there had been something challenging in Andre's eyes as he'd looked at Harry earlier, which surprised Severus. It had not escaped his notice that Harry had sensed something as well.

Staring now at Andre and the reporters, he couldn't help but wonder if the man would hint at a relationship between them. That would be highly unfortunate -- especially in light of the questions the press had been asking about Harry. The idea that anyone questioned the validity of their marriage disturbed him deeply -- even a hint of a scandal on his part might bring them both under closer scrutiny.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked. A quick glance at the boy showed that his eyes too were on Andre. The boy's lips were twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. "I was right, wasn't I?" he grumbled. "He isn't just a colleague."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Why did the boy have to pick now of all times to be perceptive? "As I said I met him last summer at a Potion Conference."

Harry glared in irritation. "Despite your opinion of my intelligence, I do understand that 'meeting someone' is a polite euphemism for something entirely different."

Despite everything, Severus couldn't help the flash of amusement that shot through him. If he didn't know better he'd swear the boy was jealous! That remark had been almost catty. "I have not seen him since you and I got married, so spare me the innuendos."

His words caused Harry to flush with anger, and Severus fought down the reaction that caused in his body. For some reason the boy's anger captivated him -- perhaps it was just the lovely color his cheeks turned, or the way his eyes glowed with life. Moments of anger brought out Harry's strongest passion -- and Severus knew he was sublimating it with what he really wanted.

"I wasn't making innuendos! I was just pointing out that you're obviously worried about something," Harry replied. "If you haven't seen him, then why do you care that he's talking to the press?"

"Because he might imply something else," Severus replied. "Which under the circumstances would not be good -- particularly not with the international press here."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What does it matter that the international press is here? Does this have something to do with that story about the Pharaoh?"

"Amongst other things," Severus confirmed, with a tight nod of his head. His lips twisted into an angry frown at the thought. The last thing he wanted to read about in tomorrow's paper was his merits versus the Pharaoh's. He rather imagined he would be found lacking in the extreme.

Harry just shook his head dismissively. "Well, you're the one who was seeing the creep. I don't know what you expect me to do about it?"

His words stirred Severus' blood. So the boy was angry -- jealous perhaps. Or at the very least irritated to be caught between the press and one of Severus' former lovers. It also occurred to him that he could use this situation to his advantage -- offer the press something far more interesting to print on the front page of their paper and possibly deter some of the proposals Harry had drawn from the international community. To date no reporter had managed to catch a truly intimate moment between them -- he knew there was a high bounty offered on pictures of the two of them together.

"I expect you to help me provide a more interesting story for them to speculate about," he informed the boy, as he raked his eyes up and down Harry's form. He looked perfect today -- any photo of him would be beautiful. The pale green of his tunic and the darker emerald of his robe brought out his eyes and the fine coloring of his skin. And while his hair still had the wild, untamed appearance most Gryffindor's sported, it suited him perfectly. He looked like a young prince -- even his carriage had changed somewhat over the last few months. He'd always been graceful in the air, but the sword lessons had improved his posture and the way he held himself, and had given him a certain predatory grace in the way he moved.

"More interesting story?" Harry asked uncertainly, looking both perplexed and intrigued. "I can't imagine what they might think more interesting than a scandal. They seem to love them so much they make them up when there is nothing available."

"Use you're imagination," Severus purposely pitched his voice low, letting the words resonate with a tone he knew effected Harry. Immediately he saw those green eyes widen in shock.

"You can't be serious," he hissed at him, the color rising in his cheeks once more.

Severus raised one eyebrow, letting his lips curl into a seductive smile. "Such a photo would certain take the front page -- relegating any other story to a lesser position. That would suffice."

Several different emotions flashed through Harry's eyes -- too many for Severus to track. There were times when he desperately wanted to look into the boy's mind, find out what he was truly thinking once and for all. But such a violation of his bond mate would be unconscionable. Finally a look of irritated resignation settled over Harry's features -- not quite the emotion he'd been hoping to inspire, but sufficient.

"I feel like a bloody chess piece," the boy grumbled.

"A chess piece?" Severus frowned, wondering what he was talking about now.

Harry glared up at him, green eyes looking vaguely wounded, and Severus felt his heart lurch at the sight. "Every single moment of my life is part of some master manipulation, orchestrated by someone else. Even my marriage. None of it means anything!"

Of all the things he'd intended, upsetting the boy had not been one of them. He had not imagined that he would interpret his suggestion in such a way -- as nothing more than a manipulation. It was of course -- but Severus had not suggested it solely to appease the press. He'd forgotten how ridiculously romantic Gryffindor's could be; such a manipulation would go against their grain.

He found himself reaching out to the boy, laying a hand gently against his arm. "Harry," he began, trying to find some words to ease the bitterness he saw.

But Harry merely shook his head dismissively. "No, you're right of course," he interrupted him before he could speak more than the boy's name. "Let the press have their photo. I'm sure it's all for the greater good after all -- isn't everything?"

Before Severus could think of a response, the boy stepped toward him, his body pressing unexpectedly against his as Harry raised his hands to slide them around his neck. When Harry turned his face expectantly toward him, Severus had no choice but to respond -- and no desire to do otherwise. He slid his own arms around the boy's waist and captured his mouth in a gentle kiss. Only vaguely was he aware of the flashing of lights beyond the Press Ward as cameras began shooting images of them. He was too caught up in the taste of Harry's lips, the heat of his body against his own. His arms tightened around the lean form, even as he deepened the kiss beyond the superficial display he'd initially intended.

Like before he lost himself in the moment, his body starved for contact. How much longer could he maintain this distance between them -- how soon would it be before he gave into his own greedy demands and seduced the boy? Judging by the way Harry innocently responded to the gentle pressure of his lips, such a seduction would not be difficult. But would the boy forgive him afterwards, or would he grow to resent him for taking what should not be his?

He released the boy before he could get carried away, taking sharp note of the color in Harry's cheeks and the way he lowered his eyelashes as if ashamed of his eager response. But from a distance it would all read perfectly -- a young man flushed with sudden passion. Severus had no doubt that their picture would take precedence over even the remarkable news of the Lycanthropy cure. The rest of the world was as starved for Harry Potter as he himself was. How nice to know that he could count himself amongst the masses.

The sound of Dumbledore and Lupin emerging from the holding area drew both their attention before they could speak further to each other. They turned, Harry taking a quick step away from Severus, the color in his cheeks still visible. Severus resisted the urge to catch hold of the boy's arm and pull him back into his side -- how was he ever going to get over this blasted need to touch him?

Lupin smiled at Harry as he joined him, but far from the smile Severus expected from Albus, the old man's eyes were worried, his mouth set in an angry frown. "Something wrong, Albus?" Severus asked at once. Shaklebolt and Stark were still with them, but it did not look as if Remus was in any sort of further trouble. He suspected the Aurors were going to escort them back through the gaggle of reporters.

Albus just nodded tightly. "Not here," he said simply, and Severus understood that he would not speak of what was troubling him until they returned to Hogwarts. The three of them fell into step around Harry -- Albus taking the point position while Remus and Severus walked on either side of him. The two Aurors moved forward to lead them back through the Press Ward where other Aurors were already waiting to push back the reporters.

No sooner had they stepped through the glowing Ward, when the sound of the reporters shouting question returned full volume. Severus saw the color in Harry's cheeks drain away as he moved swiftly amongst his guards toward the elevators. How he could ever have imagined for one minute that the boy liked such publicity Severus did not know. Had he truly been so blind?

With the Auror escort it took them only a short while to reach the main floor and the long corridors of fireplaces. Again Aurors had stationed themselves around one of the floos so that it was free of other waiting passengers when they approached. Amid the flash of the camera light and the shouts of the eager reporter, they flooed, one by one, back to the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts. When Albus stepped through after the rest of them, he waved his wand at the fireplace and sealed it off so that no ambitious reporter could follow them through.

Sirius Black was still waiting for them when they arrived, and pulled Lupin into an exuberant hug the moment he saw him. The sight returned the smile to Harry's face and Severus found himself shaking his head in disgust at the pleasure the sight of so simple a thing had stirred within him. He was turning into a bloody Gryffindor! Moved by someone's smile -- he wanted to snarl and snap at all of them, say something appropriately cutting to Black. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything that might damage Harry's enjoyment of this moment.

Black had a thousand questions, all of which he seemed to ask at once. Severus watched in silence at Lupin and Harry attempted to answer all of them simultaneously -- he'd seen this happen before. It seemed to be a trait unique to Gryffindors -- all of them talking at one time, speaking over one another, babbling as far as he could tell, too excited to speak coherently. And yet they somehow managed to convey a large amount of information in a relatively short amount of time. Annoying, but apparently efficient. He shook his head in bewilderment. Honestly! Was it really necessary for all three of them to hold hands and jump up and down like that? Lupin and Black were grown men -- and yet here they were acting like five-year-olds.

Severus turned instead to Dumbledore who was watching the three Gryffindors in amusement, his eyes twinkling once again. Apparently he found their enthusiasm encouraging. "Are you going to tell us what happened now Albus?" Severus asked, drawing the attention of the other three as well.

Albus just nodded and sat down in one of the armchairs near his desk, looking rather tired. "I was informed by Minister Fudge that our National Quidditch team has just recently lost its Seeker. As such in two weeks time, they will be holding an open Audition for a new Seeker -- here at Hogwarts."

"What?" Severus asked in shock, not certain he'd heard correctly.

"The National Team?" Black exclaimed. "But that will draw players from every professional team in the country."

"Which in turn will draw thousands of spectators," Remus finished for him.

"I know," Albus nodded in agreement.

"Our Quidditch pitch isn't suitable for such an event," Harry informed them. "It isn't as large as a professional stadium and it can't hold thousands of people."

Albus nodded, tugging on his beard. "Which his why over the next two weeks, our Quidditch pitch will be completely refurbished as a memorial tribute to the Aurors who died there last year."

They all stared at him in silence for a moment, letting his words sink in. Severus tried to imagine the chaos that was going to descend upon them. "So for the next two weeks we are going to have workmen crawling all over the place, followed by a mass spectacle in which thousands of strangers will descend upon us. There's no way we can maintain proper security in such a situation, let alone get anything done in our classes. Can't you deny the request?"

"It wasn't a request," Albus replied. "The Board of Governors has already approved it. They believe this event will bring in much needed revenue to Hogwarts and are completely behind the idea."

"Hogwarts is in need of revenue?" Sirius asked uncertainly.

Albus shook his head. "No, we're not," he glanced around at the portraits of all the other Headmasters hanging on the walls of his office all listening intently to this conversation. "Hogwarts has always managed to remain financially sound."

"Then why subject a school to such madness?" Remus asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I can think of a couple of reasons," Albus sighed as he glanced over at Harry. "I've been asked to inform the students that any student over the age of sixteen is welcome to try out for the position of England's Seeker."

Severus paled at that, realizing the implications and he turned sharply toward Harry, intent on forbidding him from participating. But his protest died on his lips when he saw the expression on the boy's face. Far from the excitement he had expected, the boy's expression had darkened like a thundercloud.

"Fudge wants me to try out," Harry stated flatly, anger in his voice. "And of course being Harry Potter, there's no way the National Team would turn me down -- whether I was good enough or not. Fudge wants to be known as the Minister who got Harry Potter to play Seeker for England."

Hearing the bitterness and the anger in Harry's voice, Severus felt cold. He could see by the expressions on Lupin's and Black's faces that they were sharing similar feelings.

"That would be my guess as well," Albus acknowledged softly.

"And the fact that this would endanger not only my life but the lives of all the other player and the spectators doesn't matter to Fudge in the slightest?" Harry demanded, though judging by the tone of his voice he didn't expect any of them to answer. The answer was obvious. "He'll risk everyone's lives to further his political agenda." He turned away from them and strode across the room to stand in front of the tall narrow window that looked out over the Quidditch Pitch. "It's not enough that he has to interfere in my personal life, now he has to ruin Quidditch as well."

Severus flinched at that. He remembered what Harry had said about feeling like he was nothing more than a chess piece -- and now here he was being manipulated once again. He couldn't help but remember that afternoon months ago when the two of them had gone to Hogsmeade together and Harry had teased him about being the only Potion Master married to a professional Quidditch Player. It seemed in the time since then Harry had given up on certain dreams he might have wanted for himself. He knew he was not likely to ever be allowed to live a normal life. The realization left a sharp, burning ache in Severus' heart, and he had no idea how to sooth it. He didn't want Harry to give up on his dreams.

"What about security, Albus?" Sirius asked. "With thousands of people coming and going, how are you going to keep the castle secure?"

"It is still a castle," Albus reminded them all. "And castles were meant to withstand sieges. I can't stop the Board of Governors from having their Quidditch match, but I can keep everyone out of the castle itself."

"And if there's an attack?" Harry asked without turning away from the window. "Do we lock up the castle and leave the spectators and the Quidditch players to fend for themselves?"

Severus frowned. He had heard that tone of voice before from Harry -- in the Winter Lands when he'd spoke of the duty he felt he owed a people who had asked for his aid. He exchanged a sharp look with Black and Lupin -- they too recognized Harry's mood. This whole thing was being orchestrated by Fudge to manipulate Harry, and consequently Harry felt responsible for the safety of the innocent people who would get in the way.

"Of course not, Harry," Albus assured him. "I've already insisted that there be a full security detail of Aurors here." The old man stood up and crossed the room to stand beside Harry. They stood together staring out the window, springtime sunshine bathing both of them in a golden pool of light. "We may not be able to stop these events from happening, Harry, but we can take precautions."

For a moment there was silence, and then Harry bowed his head. "Voldemort is planning something. Something terrible," he said softly, and Severus had to strain to hear him. Dumbledore was staring intently down into Harry's face. "What if Aurors and security details can not stop what's coming?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a long moment, before at last lifting one wrinkled hand and placing it lightly on Harry's shoulder. "There are times, my boy, when one just has to take a leap of faith. Either way, we'll all be together. None of us will be alone."

And of course it was just the sort of thing a Gryffindor liked to hear, for Harry smiled faintly at the old man and nodded his head in agreement.

----------------------------------------

Harry followed Severus down the many corridors of Hogwarts after leaving the Headmaster's office. He knew Ron and Hermione would be anxiously awaiting news of Remus' trial, and intended to head to straight to the Great Hall. Sirius and Remus had already gone back to their own rooms to celebrate in private, and Severus, Harry guessed, would be returning to his office. Though it was Spring Break, the teachers were all hard at work catching up on school grading and assignments, and he assumed Severus planned to do school work for the rest of the day.

At least he hoped that was all Severus was planning on doing -- he didn't want to think about the possibility that he might instead be going to visit Andre Serrent. Certainly he had a perfectly good excuse to visit anyone in the Potions Guild at the moment -- the Lycanthropy potion would be the talk of the Wizarding World come tomorrow.

He glanced briefly to the side, noting Severus' rather thoughtful expression, and he flushed suddenly as he thought about the other thing that might also be the talk of the Wizarding World tomorrow; Severus had seemed certain that a photo of the two of them kissing would make the front page of the papers.

When Severus had first made the suggestion, Harry's heart had leaped for a number of different reasons. He didn't want to dwell too long on the fact that after several months he was anxious to kiss the man again -- wanted desperately to find out if he had imagined the spine-tingling sensations that had gone through him the last time he'd kissed him. He might be extremely uncertain about the nature of their relationship but he was still a teenager who'd been given a brief glimpse of passion. It was human nature to want more.

And then he'd realized that he was about to be kissed to ward off rumors that his bond mate was seeing a former lover. One moment his thoughts had taken a romantic flight of fancy, and the next reality had come crashing down. Severus had married him because the Headmaster had asked him to -- because his life was in danger and he needed protection. He took care of him because it was his duty. And now he was kissing him because it worked in his favor. It wasn't real, it wasn't romantic -- hell, it wasn't even about him this time and some possible aberration of jealousy or possessiveness. It was nothing more than a blatant attempt to manipulate the press.

In that moment he hadn't known whom he wanted to throttle more -- Severus, the reporters, or Andre Serrent. But after hearing about Fudge's Quidditch plans, he decided he'd settle for throttling the Minister -- after all he'd started all of this. Without that man none of this would have happened in the first place.

Strange, though, he found it hard to think about not being married to Severus. The thought made his stomach knot uncomfortably with emotions he couldn't quite suppress. He groaned in irritation -- why did life have to be so confusing?

Another glance at Severus did nothing to ease his troubled thoughts. What if he was going to see Andre? The reality was, there wasn't anything Harry could do about it -- hell, he wasn't even certain why he was so upset. Why should he care after all? He didn't own Severus, certainly couldn't dictate how he lived his life. But, still, the idea that this was somehow a threat to his family ate away at him.

When he and Severus reached the point where they would need to go their separate ways -- Harry to the Great Hall, and Severus to his office -- Harry discovered that he simply could not stand the suspense. He had to know -- even if he didn't like the answer. When Severus nodded politely to him and then turned and headed off down the diverging hall, Harry impulsively grabbed hold of his wrist, arresting his motion.

Severus turned at once toward him, a look of utter astonishment on his face as if he could not believe that Harry had detained him. Harry flushed in embarrassment, guessing that no one had grabbed the man in a long while -- certainly there would not be a student in all of Hogwarts brave enough, or foolish enough, to grab hold of the Potion Master. Still he couldn't bring himself to let go. Strangely enough Severus made no move to pull his wrist from Harry's grasp. He merely raised one dark eyebrow in mocking question, demanding an explanation.

"Are you. . .I wanted to. . ." Harry stammered out, unable to find the words he needed. He knew his face was probably red with mortification -- how did he get himself into these situations? "What are you doing for the rest of the day?" He tried not to cringe at the way that sounded -- maybe the man would believe it was nothing more than a causal inquiry? Certainly it was better that simply blurting out 'Are you going to go see Andre?' Maybe he could cap his humiliation by blurting out 'are you having sex' once again?

If anything Severus' expression grew more incredulous, but still he did not pull his wrist from Harry's control. "I have papers to grade, and several potions to make for Madam Pomfrey," he informed him. Then he waited a brief moment before cocking his head to one side and asking, "What are you planning on doing?" He made the question sound so polite, so normal, with just enough sardonic intonation in it to make it very clear that it was anything but normal.

Harry surpressed the desire to squirm, but still did not release the man's wrist. "I was going to go tell Ron and Hermione about the trial," he answered, so embarrassed now that his ears were burning.

Severus nodded his head at that, as if finding his response interesting -- but of course it was not since Harry had already told everyone in Dumbledore's office that he was going to do that. The man glanced down briefly at Harry's hand which was still wrapped firmly around his wrist as if trying to figure out what precisely Harry intended to do with his hand now that he'd captured it. A faint smirk of amusement lit the man's eyes. It was all the prompting Harry needed -- he forced his hand to unclench, forced himself to release the man's wrist. Bloody hell! What was he thinking?

"I'll just. . .be. . .going," Harry stammered again, still anxious and unsettled and now embarrassed on top of all that.

"I'll see you tonight," Severus replied. There was a long, pregnant pause before the man added, "At sword lessons."

For some strange reason that soothed something inside Harry -- after all the man could hardly grade papers, brew potions and still be on time for sword lessons if he was also planning on going to see a former lover. In spite of everything, he grinned at the man.

"Right," he exclaimed. "Sword lessons!" And then he turned and raced off, anxious to end the awkward moment. He was certain Severus stood there watching him until he disappeared around the corner.

--------------

Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone who keeps me updated on the art around the web. There is a new one on deviantart dot com titled 'HP : THE MARRIAGE STONE by Aoeiya' Go check it out. The artist managed to capture the best expressions -- the look of irritation on Snape's face, the look of panic on Harry's and the look of delight on Dumbledore's. A perfect picture of their wedding!


	57. Chapter 57 Seeing the Obvious

Chapter 57 -- Seeing the Obvious

Relieved and unwilling to think too long on why he was relieved, Harry hurried through the hallways, vaguely noting how empty the castle was -- it would be several days yet before the students returned from holiday. He supposed though that the workmen would arrive tomorrow to begin working on the Quidditch Pitch. If the National tryouts were going to be in two weeks, they'd have to get started soon. Ron would be exited -- but the possibility of an attack was too worrisome for Harry to truly look forward to the event.

He found Ron and Hermione sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny and surprisingly Draco. Charlie had to work during the day and Draco had grown bored by himself. He was currently playing chess against Ron while Ginny and Hermione looked on. Relations with Draco since his marriage had been odd. That very first conversation in potions class when Ron had welcomed Draco to the family had seemed to set the standard for the future relationship between Ron and Draco. Neither of them were comfortable with the trappings of true friendship -- Ron still called Draco 'ferret' and Draco still called Ron 'weasel' and because of this all seemed right with both their worlds.

Draco and Ginny were polite to each other -- though Harry suspected that had more to do with how a pureblood was expected to treat a female member of his family. But it was Hermione that Draco was really awkward around. He seemed to understand that she was considered a permanent fixture in the Weasley family, but he honestly didn't know how to behave around a Muggleborn. No doubt a lifetime of indoctrination that there was something wrong with Muggleborns was coloring his thoughts -- and he really didn't know how to get past it. Hermione on the other hand was far more hesitant to simply put aside the insults she'd endured over the years -- the word Mudblood still hung between them. Nevertheless they were both trying.

As for Harry and Draco -- for whatever reason Draco seemed to have the least amount of problem accepting Harry into his life, which Harry found weird. But then he suspected the Slytherin had been raised to respect power, and like it or not Harry knew he was more powerful than his classmates.

All four of them looked up as Harry entered, each taking note of the outfit he was wearing. Normally they only saw him in his school uniform, and he always felt somewhat awkward when he stepped outside that image. Hermione and Ginny looked appreciatively at him, while Ron just looked vaguely wistful. Even Draco looked impresses by his appearance for he nodded his head at him in acknowledgment.

"How was. . ." Hermione began, but broke off suddenly, glancing briefly at Draco. They had not shared any news of Remus with the Slytherin.

"Everything's fine," Harry said simply as he sat down beside them. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny smiled in relief.

"Professor Lupin's been freed of all charges then?" Draco asked unexpectedly.

All four of them looked at him in surprise. He just sneered at the lot of them. "Please," he scoffed. "I do follow current events. I know his formal Inquiry was today -- and it's not like I'm completely uninvolved in this issue."

"No," Hermione nodded in agreement. "Since it was your father who leveled the charges against him."

"Even so," Draco nodded, unperturbed by the accusation in her words. "So I take it everything is alright? He's been cleared?"

"He's been cleared," Harry agreed. "They had no choice but to drop all charges. I'm sure it will be all over the papers tomorrow."

Draco just nodded and moved one of his knights across the chessboard in front of him. "And Professor Lupin?" the blond boy asked. When no one answered him, he sighed and looked over at Harry. "He's alright, yes? I mean he's not. . .angry at me for anything, right?"

Understanding now what the Slytherin was asking, Harry nodded his head. No doubt Draco had heard enough of the story to be concerned that the possibility that he was to be married to Sirius Black might have sent a feral werewolf after his blood. "Remus is fine," Harry assured him. "And he's very happy for you and Charlie."

"Good," Draco stated with a satisfied nodded of his head, and then glared at Ron when his bishop smashed one of his pawns. Unlike Harry, Draco actually seemed to be capable of holding his own against Ron in a chess game. Typically five moves into a game, Harry's pieces started to moan and groan, ready to give up. Draco's chess pieces, on the other hand, were posing arrogantly and cheering each move.

"Hermione," Harry turned to his friend. "Do you know anything about the Wand Certification Act?" He thought about asking about the Pharaoh and the Shelong brothers, but decided he'd had enough romantic intrigue for the moment. But he did want to be more informed about the political situation. If the entire world was going to descend on Hogwarts in two weeks, he doubted he'd escape the questions of the press again.

Hermione nodded. "I read the proposition when it was first proposed. It's an attempt to certify all wands to specific manufacturing standards so that wand makers can't sell you shoddy workmanship."

"I can't imagine Ollivander selling shoddy wands," Harry mused.

"Ollivander is a top of the line wand maker, Harry," Ginny told him. "He's not the only wand maker around. Mum and Dad had to save up for ages to buy each of us wands at Ollivanders."

Harry frowned at that, remembering how in second year Ron had to work all year with a broken wand because his family could not afford to replace it. And all of Ginny's books were hand-me-downs from Ron. He half expected Draco to say something disparaging about the Weasley's financial situation, but for once the boy stayed quiet.

"So that's it?" Harry asked. "It's about standardizing wands?" Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out why anyone would care what he thought about such a thing -- it was like asking him what he thought about the regulations on the thickness of cauldron bottoms. What did it matter?

"That's it," Hermione agreed.

But at this, Draco snorted in amusement, drawing all their attention. "That's not what it's about," he told all of them.

Hermione glared at him. "I read the Act myself," she informed him. "You remember, Ron. You read it too?"

Ron looked perplexed. "I did?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Honestly! It was in the paper."

Ron glanced over at Harry and just shrugged. Just because it was in the paper didn't mean either of them had read it. "Must not have been in the sports section," he remarked and Harry grinned at the comment. Ginny rolled her eyes in amusement, but Hermione looked quite put out.

"You may have read the Act but you didn't read between the lines," Draco told Hermione. "It specifically said it was about regulating all 'wands and wand-like items' to basic Ministry standards."

"So?" Hermione asked.

"Wand-like items can mean anything," Draco informed her. "It's purposely vague so that it can be interpreted anyway the Ministry wants to interpret it. The Act isn't about regulating wands; it's about controlling all magical artifacts. If that Act passes not only can the Ministry control who does and does not make or purchase wands, but they can also confiscate or impose fines on any magical artifact in England. That means that commoners will no longer be able to make their own family wands or staffs. And they can take away every enchanted teapot or singing doorknob or talking clock from all the Squibs living amongst Muggles. Even Hagrid's dubious umbrella will be scrutinized."

Hermione looked horrified by the notion and Harry found himself frowning in confusion. "Wait a minute -- commoners?"

Draco just shrugged and waved his hand vaguely. "You know -- common people. Average Wizards and Witches. People who don't go to Hogwarts. The little people."

"You mean the majority of the Wizarding World?" Harry clarified. It was great that the Slytherin was at least attempting to be nice -- but there was no mistaking the prejudice that was strongly engrained into him.

"Right," Draco nodded. "Them. Most of them don't have enough magic to bother with real wands, so some of them make family wands. They're enchanted to do very specific tasks instead of spells in general. Many of them have been passed down from one generation to the next. They're like folk-charms. I've even seen a couple of homemade brooms. All of those could be taxed, fined or confiscated under this new law."

"You mean like my Aunt Mildred's quilts?" Ron asked perplexed. "They all have warming charms on them."

Draco thought about that a moment and nodded. "Yes, they could impose an ownership tax on any item like that."

"Or Mrs. Figg's teapot," Harry mused out loud. He hadn't known when he was younger that Mrs. Figg had been a Squib, but he remembered now that she had a teapot that always stayed hot and never ran out of water.

"But that's horrible!" Hermione protested. "Are you certain that is the intention?"

Draco just looked at her in confusion. "What would be the point in proposing such a law if that wasn't the intention? Certifying wands would just be stupid. A wand either works for you or it doesn't. You don't need the government to certify it."

"Do you support this law?" Hermione demanded.

"Of course not," Draco looked outraged at the very suggestion. "Do you have any idea how many items I own that could be taxed under this new regulation? It will get overturned when it comes up for a vote. Most people can see right through it."

Hermione looked offended by that last comment, her cheeks flushing at the insult. Draco just sighed. "Look," he said placatingly. "My father is an expert on Wizarding Law. I grew up with this stuff. I know what to expect. You don't. You Gryffindors always take things at face value -- you never look for the angle."

Somewhat appeased, Hermione fell silent. She glanced over at Harry who just smiled encouragingly at her. At least Draco was trying -- in his own Slytherin way. Married to Severus, Harry had grown used to the backhanded compliments.

"What about the Alliance Precedence Act?" Harry asked them. "Either of you know anything about that?"

"It's an attempt to reform family marriage laws," Draco replied after a quick glance at Hermione to see if she was going to answer. When she stayed silent he continued. "Minister Fudge is attempting to document past family alliances, and base current alliances on those old standards. Right now any Head of House can change or abolish a family Conscriptus, like the way the Weasleys did. But if this new law passes you will have to first prove a historical precedence before you can change your Conscriptus. Take the Blacks for example."

"What about them?" Harry asked defensively. He wasn't certain if Draco was aware of how close he was to Sirius.

"They are a Dark family," Draco explained, only to be cut off by loud protests from Harry, Hermione, and both Weasleys.

Draco held up his hands in surrender. "I meant traditionally. They've traditionally been Dark -- I mean have you seen Bellatrix?"

"Sirius isn't dark," Harry grumbled, not liking the idea at all.

"Yes, and he's considered the black sheep of the family -- no pun intended," Draco reminded him. "Based on historical precedence, under the new law, the Blacks would only be able to accept alliances from other Dark families. Even the Head of House would not be able to change the Conscriptus without first proving that there is a historical precedence for it. Other families will be forced to reinstate them. The law is supposed to preserve our heritage."

"Is that likely to pass?" Harry asked apprehensively, already seeing trouble on the horizon for a lot of different people.

Draco shrugged at that. "Hard to say. On one hand there are a lot of old pureblood families who would like to see a return to some of the old ways. On the other hand it also takes away an important power of the Head of House, and no one likes that idea. Someone may propose a milder version of the law which might pass. Or maybe someone in the spot light will speak out against it and we won't have worry about it anymore."

Though he spoke that last statement extremely mildly, Harry could hear the rather pointed insinuation in the Slytherin's words. He stared at him for a long moment trying to figure out if he was serious. Finally Harry just sighed and folded his arms on the table, dropping his head down on top of them. "I hate my life," he mumbled.

"Really, Potter," Draco sighed as he moved his queen across the board and checkmated Ron's king. "You Gryffindors just don't know a good opportunity when you see it."

-------------------------------------------------

The following morning Severus sat in his armchair near his fireplace as he quietly read the paper. As he had guessed, the photo of him and Harry had taken center stage. While the headline proclaimed the cure for Lycanthropy, the main article was about the rather heated kiss between the Hero of the Wizarding World and his bondmate as witnessed by several reporters from the Daily Prophet. Photographs of Albus and Lupin, along with the full explanation of the Lycanthropy cure and the trial transcripts were lower down on the page.

Severus smiled in satisfaction at the photo -- he'd been right, Harry did look perfect. In fact the two of them together were rather striking, even if he did say so himself. And as he had predicted all speculation about the Pharaoh and the Shelong brothers were nothing more than rumors printed on the back pages of the paper. No mention at all of his previous relationship with Andre appeared, leaving him to believe that Andre had held his tongue. Perhaps he had realized that such gossip might turn the Wizarding World away from him -- after all who wanted to incur the wrath of the Boy Who Lived?

Seeing that kiss replayed in the photo, reminded Severus sharply of the other events of yesterday. When Harry had grabbed his wrist he had been genuinely shocked -- not so much because the boy had grabbed him, but because of what it signified. It had been the first overt sign of possessiveness Harry had ever displayed. He doubted the boy himself knew why he had done what he'd done -- but Severus had not missed the expression on the boy's face. He'd wanted to confirm absolutely that Severus was not going to go meet Andre.

Possessiveness, Severus mused. The boy might have no clue at all what his feelings for Severus were, but it was clear that he was afraid of something or someone disrupting his family. But was the boy simply so starved for affection that he would have accepted anyone, or did he have genuine feelings for Severus? The reality was, all Gryffindors were territorial -- it didn't necessarily mean anything significant.

But what if it did?

Severus stared thoughtfully down at the picture. Harry would be seventeen in only a handful of months -- a full adult by every definition of the word. So many things were possible then. The boy might realize that he no longer needed to be married to keep the Ministry from interfering in his life -- and while divorce was unlikely, if their marriage had not been consummated by then, annulment was a very real possibility. If Harry asked for an annulment, what was he going to do?

But what if he didn't, Severus asked himself. What if the boy was already attached enough to him that he would not accept a severing of their family? More than once Harry had spoken of family -- had insisted that that was what the two of them were. And if he was now also showing typical Gryffindor territorial instincts, was become possessive of him, jealous even, then perhaps that seventeen-year milestone would come and go without any disruption to either of their lives.

Certainly Severus could take matters into his own hands. The idea of an outright seduction went against his conscience -- there was too much innocence to corrupt in the boy, too much opportunity for betrayal if the boy realized what he was doing and why he was doing it. But what about a simple romance -- a courtship per say? Certainly no one could fault him for that -- and it would likely appeal to the Gryffindor sense of the absurd; they called it a sense of the romantic of course.

Problem was, as a Slytherin, and a rather cynical, bitter, withdrawn one at that, Severus had no idea how to go about such a courtship. Flowers, he wondered. Candy? Poetry? He sneered at the thought. Some flowers were good for potion ingredients of course, so he could see the value in that. But candy -- reminded him too much of the Headmaster and his blasted lemon-drops. And poetry -- the boy was a Gryffindor; they were barely literate as it was.

Severus sighed and he lightly traced the shape of Harry in the photo. He'd have to frame this one -- it really was good quality even if it had been shot through Press Wards.

The flare of his fireplace startled him as green flames erupted from the floo, and he stood up quickly as a moment later Sirius Black came tumbling out, gripping a copy of the Daily Prophet in his fist. The man moved fluidly to his feet, waving the paper in the air as he turned on Severus, eyes blazing with fury. Severus' hand moved instinctively toward his wand.

"Snape! What is the meaning of this!" the man shouted at him. "I told you if you touched him--"

But before Sirius could complete his tirade the door to the bedroom slammed open and Harry came rushing out, fully clothed but his hair still damp from the shower. "Sirius!" Harry shouted, rushing to their side and grabbing hold of his godfather's arm. "Calm down! What's wrong?"

Severus backed away as Sirius turned toward Harry. He suspected Harry had seen him discretely pull his wand from his sleeve for the boy shot him a warning look. Damn! Why wasn't he allowed to curse Black any more? There were certain disadvantages to being married that he hadn't considered.

"This is what's wrong!" Sirius shouted, waving the paper in front of Harry.

Exasperated, Harry grabbed the paper out of his hand, still maintaining his grip on Sirius' arm with the other hand. He glanced down at the front page of the paper, seeing the same image Severus had been admiring only moments ago. Severus took sharp notice of the color that touched the boy's cheeks. And then the boy did something that shocked the hell out of him -- he lied to his godfather.

"Sirius," Harry sighed. "You didn't look closely enough at the picture. He didn't kiss me. I kissed him."

The look of utter shock on Black's face was almost enough to make up for every insult the man had ever thrown at him. Severus couldn't fight the faint smirk that touched his lips, though he tried to maintain a straight face.

"What?" Black shrieked, his voice cracking. "Why?"

The look Harry gave him was remarkably guileless. "To thank him for curing Remus," he said simply.

Severus was quite impressed with how perfectly the boy manipulated his godfather with that one simple statement, for of course the response took the wind entirely out of Black's sails. He just stared at Harry for a moment in disbelief. "You didn't have to do that," he said finally.

Harry blinked at him, looking vaguely confused. "Didn't have to thank him?"

"Didn't have to kiss him!" Black exclaimed.

Harry just shrugged sheepishly and smiled at the man. "Spur of the moment impulse," he explained. "You thanked him, didn't you?"

Black's eyes widened in shock. "I didn't kiss him!"

"Thank Merlin for that," Severus added -- though he had to admit, Black and Lupin both had thanked him, and quite sincerely. Harry threw Severus a look that spoke volumes, urging him to keep out of this conversation.

"Well, I did," the boy replied. "So don't go blaming him. Everything is fine." He tugged on Black's arm, urging him back toward the floo. Surprisingly Black made no effort to stop him. "Now you better go back to Remus before he panics and thinks you're down here murdering Severus. The last thing you need to do is get in more trouble before we can clear you of your current trouble. And you know how Remus worries."

It seemed as if it were exactly the right thing to say to Black, for he looked suddenly guilty as he glanced back at the fire. No doubt he had left Lupin without any explanation at all. He didn't even protest when Harry tossed more floo powder into the fire and shoved him through, assuring him once more that everything was as it should be.

Thoroughly impressed with the way Harry had just manipulated the situation he could only stare at the boy in amusement. But the look on Harry's face when he turned back toward him, unsettled him. Harry looked profoundly unhappy.

"I guess you're not the only one who can move pieces on a chess board," the boy told him, and Severus was reminded sharply of the expression on his face yesterday just before he'd kissed him. The boy did not like being part of this manipulation -- liked it even less that an action that should be considered intimate was little more than a calculated move.

"Harry," Severus sighed, wishing he knew the right words to appease the boy.

But once again Harry just shook his head, dismissing what he might say. It was a defensive mechanism, Severus knew. "I'm going to go see Ron and Hermione," he informed Severus and headed swiftly toward the door.

Damn it! Severus really had no idea at all how to deal with this situation. Emotions -- at least the tender ones -- had never been his strong suit. "Don't get into any trouble," he called out after the boy, and the immediately berated himself for saying such a foolish thing. It was likely that the boy would take that as a criticism, which was the last thing he wanted.

Surprisingly, Harry paused at the door before opening it, turning halfway around as if hesitant to say what was on his mind. "I. . .what are you going to do today?"

The tone, the expression, the uneasy look in those green eyes were exactly the same as yesterday when he'd grabbed Severus' wrist in the hallway. This at least Severus could fix -- could set the boy's mind at ease.

"I am not going to go see Andre, if that is what you're asking. I haven't seen him or anyone else since we got married."

Several emotions flickered across Harry's face, so fast Severus was not certain what they were. Finally the boy just sighed heavily as if a weight had settled upon him that he did not wish to carry. "I don't really have the right to complain, do I?" he asked softly, and the color high in his cheeks was more shame now than embarrassment.

Severus couldn't help but wonder how often he'd been abused by the Dursleys for even hinting that he might care about what any of them were doing, or showing any interest at all in their lives. Certainly as a young child he must have wanted to join them for family events or be included in the bonding moments all families shared -- and just as certainly he would have been not only denied but punished for even wishing it.

"Yes, you do," Severus assured him firmly, wanting to clear this up right now. "We're married. You have the right to expect certain things from me. If I expect fidelity from you, you have the right to expect it from me as well." There had been a time when he'd thought he could stand aside and look the other way if Harry ever showed an interest in someone else, but that time had long passed.

"Do you?" the boy asked. "Expect fidelity from me?"

Wanting to be utterly clear on the subject, Severus took several steps toward the boy. "Yes," he growled, knowing he looked menacing and not caring at the moment. "That means no Brown, no Patil sisters, no Pharaoh, no Shelong brothers!"

The shame vanished, as he'd hoped it would, replaced now with outrage. "I don't even know them!" he protested. "And Lavender and Parvati weren't serious -- they weren't throwing passes!"

"Maybe not the Patil girl," Severus conceded, though he doubted that as well. "But the Brown girl would bed you in an instant."

Harry's eyes flashed in shock. "I have no intention of letting anyone bed me any time soon!"

Severus was fairly certain that once again the boy had spoken without really thinking about what it was he was saying -- for a moment later he seemed to realize what his words had meant and his face turned red. He looked utterly mortified. Severus couldn't help but want to tease him.

"Don't tell me you are considering Black's crazy idea about entering a monastery?" he mocked. The reality was he didn't want to think too hard on the idea of 'bedding' the boy -- he could imagine it all too clearly, even if Harry could not.

Mortification turned instantly to shock. "You know about that?" Harry asked in surprise.

Severus just sighed and crossed swiftly across the room toward a sideboard. Opening a drawer he pulled out a handful of colorful, glossy papers and waved them at Harry. "Gifts from Black," he explained. "He's quite vocal on the subject."

Baffled, Harry came forward and took the pamphlets from him, reading the titles of the various monasteries advertised in the pages. There was even a rather humorous pamphlet titled "So You Want To Be A Monk".

"Wizarding monasteries?" Harry frowned, his interest apparent as he leafed through the various pages. "Wizards are Christian?" He sounded utterly confused, as he frequently was about Wizarding Society.

Severus just rolled his eyes in exasperation. "The monastic life has been around a lot longer than Christianity," he explained. Seeing Harry's attention caught by the words in the pamphlets, he reached over and snatched them out of boy's hands, tossing them back into the drawer to be disposed of later. "I have no intention of letting you enter a monastery!" he informed Harry when he protested the action.

That Gryffindor cheekiness returned full force. "Why not?" the boy demanded challengingly, though there was enough of a grin on his face that Severus knew he was joking. "Maybe I'd like it?"

But joking or not, Severus knew that if the public got even a hint of Harry's interest -- real or imagined -- there would be enough religious groups coming forward to urge him into a life of seclusion that it might be a very real threat. "You are not meant for a monastery," Severus told him firmly. He wasn't about to deal with request from religious orders on top of proposals from foreign heads of state.

But there was still a flash of challenge in Harry's green eyes. "How do you know?"

This, Severus could answer, and quite definitively. The boy might not know what he was feeling, but there was no mistaking the way his body reacted when touched. He caught hold of Harry's chin, tilting his face up, before claiming his lips in a firm kiss. The boy gasped in surprise, and Severus pressed his advantage, deepening the kiss and tasting the mouth he was quickly becoming addicted to. His blood stirred to life, his body reacting with greed, and need, and a swift burning hunger that made it almost impossible for him to stop himself from pushing this beyond a simple kiss. Or not so simple -- for he felt the boy shiver suddenly and respond hesitantly, moaning softly when Severus moved his mouth hungrily against his own. Once again the sensation of Harry's too-powerful magic washed over him.

When he drew back, the boy was flushed and wide-eyed, but this time there was no look of wounded resignation in his eyes. "You are not meant for a monastery," Severus purred softly, and saw the effect his voice had on the boy as his breath caught in his throat. "Now go see your friends before I forget myself."

Harry's eyes widened at that admission, and a moment later he bolted out the door in a very un-Gryffindor-like manner. It was all Severus could do not to laugh out loud -- perhaps he wasn't so bad at the romance-nonsense after all. For the first time he felt there might actually be hope for. . .something. . .between them. He'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that he'd take whatever he could get.


	58. Chapter 58 The Meaning of Things

Chapter 58 -- The Meaning of Things

Harry tried to calm his racing heart as he moved through the corridors of Hogwarts. Severus had kissed him! Granted it wasn't the first time he'd kissed him, but for some reason this time felt different. This time it had seemed more . . . meaningful?

But what had he meant -- 'before I forget myself?' There were a dozen different ways Harry could interpret that, and he wasn't at all certain which was the most likely, or which he most wanted. He wasn't certain at all what he wanted.

Severus wasn't going to see Andre -- that was a good thing. That was one thing he could point to and say, yes, he wanted that. But after that all bets were off.

Fidelity -- that was a good thing too, he decided. But what precisely did it mean? It had almost sounded as if Severus' opinion on that subject might have changed -- like he hadn't expected fidelity at one point, but now he did. But that didn't seem right either -- after all he'd certainly come after him quickly enough when he'd foolishly wandered off with Julius that one time. He'd shown signs of possessiveness early on in their marriage.

What did it all mean? What did he want it to mean? He liked being part of a family. He liked his home -- and Severus was certainly a big part of that home. He definitely liked the way his body tingled in unexpected places when Severus kissed him! But was he really becoming involved in a romantic relationship with his Potions Master? Slytherins didn't do romance -- what if it didn't mean the same thing to Severus? What if he wanted it to mean one thing, and Severus wanted it to mean something else? Harry knew for certain that he wasn't the sort of person to meet someone at a Potions Conference and have a brief affair with him, only to never see him again. But apparent Severus was. How could the two of them possibly be on the same page here?

There were days he despaired of ever figuring things out -- why on earth did life have to be so complicated? It was bad enough his situation with the Ministry and Voldemort sent his life regularly into turmoil, but did his private life have to be so confusing as well?

Reaching the open doors to the Great Hall he paused before carefully peeking around the corner to see who was already present. He knew that the Prophet had already been delivered to the castle -- Sirius had confirmed that. But he had no idea what sort of reaction to expect from his friends. He was only grateful that the rest of the students were not currently in residence. They would all be returning soon, but perhaps by then the initial reaction to that photo would have blown over.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were seated on one side of Gryffindor table. Across from them were Draco and Charlie, all five of them deep in conversation. There were several newspapers in front of them and Harry sighed nervously.

He knew that Dumbledore had requested members of the Order to rotate in and out of Hogwarts while the Quidditch Pitch was being modified, and it wasn't surprising that Charlie had volunteered for one of the first rotations -- any excuse to spend more time with Draco. But the addition of Draco to their little group left Harry unsettled. He could almost predict his friends' reaction to the photo -- but Malfoy was an unknown.

Knowing he had little hope of avoiding the situation, he squared his shoulders and strode into the Hall, intent on simply pretending nothing was unusual. He'd managed Sirius after all -- how hard could his friends be?

All of them looked up as he approached the table, their expressions -- actually he had no idea how to read their expressions. Ron looked like he wanted to shout, but was forcibly restraining himself. Ginny was smirking. Charlie was. . .smirking too. Draco was. . .bloody hell! Also smirking. And Hermione -- Harry frowned. Hermione merely looked pensive.

Unsurprisingly it was Draco who spoke up first, waving the paper in front of his face as he sat down. "My goodness, Potter, looks like you--"

Harry pointed a finger at the blond, glaring firmly at him as he cut off whatever it was he was going to say. "I will hit you again," he warned, reminding the Slytherin of his reaction that first day after his marriage.

Draco stopped talking, a look of utter disappointment crossing his face. He looked like a child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. "But what about that Muggle saying?" he pouted. "You know the one. Sticks and stones can . . .break glass houses, but names. . .are. . . irrelevant?" He smiled over at Hermione as if to say 'see, I said something Muggle'. She just sighed and looked down at her eggs with a pained expression. Instead Draco turned to Charlie for approval, and beamed when the man winked at him. He didn't seem to realize that Charlie was trying valiantly not to burst into laughter.

Ignoring the Slytherin, Harry calmly filled up his plate. He glanced over at Ron and Hermione. Neither of them said a word. How odd.

He glanced at Ginny. She was looking down at her plate rather fiercely; Harry could still see the smirk she was trying desperately to hide. He stole a look at Charlie, but he was staring rather pointedly up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, apparently utterly fascinated by the wispy clouds drifting across the sky-scape.

No one spoke, and Harry wasn't about to break the silence. He ate quietly wondering who would last the longest.

Finally Draco just couldn't take it any more. "Well, he won't punch any of you!" he shouted at the others. "Say something!"

Ron and Hermione looked utterly shocked at Draco's outburst, but Ginny just started giggling. "I'll say it," she broke in. "This is better than the leather!"

"Ginny!" Ron shouted in outrage, but his sister looked utterly unrepentant as she looked back down at the photo on her newspaper.

"It's true!" she exclaimed. "Who knew Professor Snape could be so. . .passionate? I'm thinking of starting a fan club."

"It's Snape!" Ron exclaimed.

"Snape and Harry," Ginny agreed enthusiastically as she studied the picture. "You really do look nice in green, Harry. So photogenic."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Ron protested as he grabbed the paper out of his sister's hands. He glared at Harry.

Harry just shrugged. "Don't look at me," he replied. "It's a very long story." He was about to say he'd already gotten into it with Sirius when he remembered Draco's presence. He still didn't know how much they were telling the Slytherin these days. He supposed, married to Charlie, that he was considered an ally now, but still.

"Well, whatever the story is, I don't want to hear it," Ron decided with a firm shake of his head.

Hermione, who'd been remarkably silent up to that point, finally looked up. "Harry, there's something I need to talk to you about," she began, only to have Ron turn toward her in shock.

"Hermione!" he protested. "We discussed this! It's not proper to talk about this. Especially not in . . . mixed company." This time, instead of glancing over at his sister indicating he was referring to females, he shot a wary glance at Draco. Draco looked utterly intrigued.

Hermione glared right back at him. "I am going to discuss this whether you like it or not, Ronald Weasley. And I am going to use crude Muggle terms like DNA instead of prim and proper Wizarding ones like 'essence', so I would suggest that all the purebloods in the room vacate the premises immediately!"

Ron looked utterly horrified by her words, and a moment later he leaped to his feet, grabbing hold of his sister's arm. "Come on, Ginny," he urged. Grumbling, Ginny stood, while across the table a very amused Charlie stood up and pulled Draco away from the table as well.

"Let's give them some privacy," Charlie urged when Draco started to protest.

"But I want to hear about DNA!" the blond Slytherin complained.

"I'll explain it to you later," Charlie told him. "Let's go down to the Quidditch Pitch and watch the workmen."

That caught the Slytherin's interest. "Can we throw things at them?" he asked hopefully, receiving odd looks from Ron and Ginny.

Charlie just grinned and draped his arm across Draco's shoulders. "I'll think about it," he promised. The show of affection however seemed enough for Draco for he left without further protest. The four of them closed the doors to the Great Hall behind them, leaving Harry and Hermione completely alone. Nonetheless Hermione cast a privacy charm around their table before speaking.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this conversation?" Harry sighed.

Hermione just shrugged. "Well, you hate it when people don't tell you anything," she reminded him.

"Someone's keeping something from me?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "Not exactly. They're just not talking about it because it's considered rude to mention such a thing and because none of them -- Ron, Sirius, Remus, the other Professors-- realize that you probably don't know anything about the subject. It wouldn't occur to any of them to actually ask you because it's not proper to bring the subject up in the first place. They're all assuming you already know."

"Know what?" Harry asked, becoming alarmed now. What on earth was he supposed to know that Hermione was so convinced he didn't know?

Hermione sighed thoughtfully as if trying to figure out how best to approach the subject. "Harry, do you know what an annulment is?"

Harry frowned. That was the last thing he was expecting her to say -- and seemed incredibly out of the blue. "Yes," he stated. "It's like a divorce only with everyone pretending that the marriage never happened in the first place. What does this have to do with what everyone else is not telling me?"

"I knew I was right!" Hermione said mostly to herself. "Harry, that's the subject no one will bring up because they consider it too private to talk about. But they're all assuming you know what it means, when you don't. You only know what Muggles think it means, and it's not the same in the Wizarding World."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. "And why is it important?" He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why did Hermione think he needed to know about annulments?

Hermione held up the paper with the photo of him kissing Severus on the page. "It's important because of this," she explained. When he continued to stare at her blankly, she sighed and set the paper aside. "You may or may not know this but divorce is pretty much unheard of in the Wizarding World. It's considered incredibly dishonorable. If two people don't get along they typically just live in separate homes but stay married. And there certainly isn't any possibility of getting remarried after a divorce unless your ex dies first."

"You can't get remarried after a divorce," Harry repeated, still not certain why this had anything to do with him.

"Not legally," Hermione agreed. "Well, unless you were marrying a Muggle, then I guess it wouldn't matter. An annulment is different though. It means the marriage was never valid to begin with so there is no problem with dissolving it. But there are very specific things in the Wizarding World that determine whether or not the marriage is valid. Do you remember your marriage vows? You swore to join body, name, house and power. Those things mean something very literally in the Wizarding World. Two of them are really important -- body and power -- and if you've joined those then an annulment is no longer possible. If three out of the four vows are fulfilled, then there can be no annulment."

When Harry just continued to stare at her, she pressed on valiantly. "You and Professor Snape have joined your names. I know everyone still refers to you as Harry Potter, but legally you are actually Harry Potter-Snape. And you've also joined houses. Your house has accepted Professor Snape -- that would be Sirius, though I admit it was probably grudgingly. And Professor Snape's house has accepted you -- that would be his family. But as far as I know you haven't joined body or power, which means that when you turn seventeen and no longer have to worry about the Ministry, an annulment is still possible for you. But this--" she held up the paper again, "is likely to worry a number of people like Sirius and make them think you're heading in that direction."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his stomach knotting up the longer this conversation continued. Suddenly all Sirius' jokes about monasteries took on a whole new meaning -- had that merely been his way of hinting at a topic that was apparently inappropriate to bring up?

"So everyone is planning on giving me an annulment on my seventeenth birthday?" he asked stiffly around the lump in his throat.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not exactly. It's just that the option is there, in case you want it. Unless you do something to make it impossible -- and unlike everyone else, I don't think you were even aware of the possibility let alone what might prevent it."

She was right of course -- it hadn't even crossed his mind to ask such a thing. Why would he when the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything was stability? And now it sounded like even his so called family was no longer a permanent fixture. "Body and power," he said, as if trying to clarify the two things that could prevent such a thing.

Hermione nodded. "Body means sex," she clarified. "It means literally consummating the marriage. Remember those innuendos Professor Snape made to the Minister the night of your marriage -- that was about confirming that your marriage would definitely be valid so that the Minister would have no reason to question it."

Harry felt his face heating up as he remembered the conversation in question. At the time he had understood the implications, but hadn't really known why they had been important. "And power?" he asked wondering what that was all about.

"That's usually a byproduct of body," Hermione explained. "It can happen automatically when two people with magic have sex -- unless they take steps to prevent it. Your magic sort of seeps into one another to the point where you can actually sense the other person's magical signature. Sometimes it's something that happens slowly over time between a couple as they become more and more familiar with each other's magical signature. You know that feeling that comes over you when Dumbledore gets angry or uses a lot of magic, and everyone can sort of feel it -- like electricity cackling in the air? You do it too sometimes and everyone can feel it."

Harry nodded, knowing the sense she was referring to.

"It's supposed to be like that only to a much stronger degree, almost to the point where you can influence each other's magic. Like with Molly and Arthur -- they can use each other's wands as easily as their own. Sometimes it happens even without the sexual element -- I've suspected Remus and Sirius have been able to perform tandem magic since they were children. Most bonds are not that strong -- not strong enough for true tandem magic, but some overcome all limitations."

Harry remembered the conversation he'd had with Asgeir and Alrik in the Winter Lands about how difficult tandem magic could be. It occurred to him that this magical bond Hermione was referring to was likely much different for average Wizards and Witches than it was for those who had enough power to make them one of the elite. Unfortunately he suspected that also meant it would be different for him as well.

Immediately Harry thought of the chapter he'd read in Slytherin's journals about sensing other people's magic. He'd had a very similar conversation with Severus about sensing Dumbledore's magic, and he remembered the rather odd expression that had crossed the man's face. And later, in Slytherin's chamber he had impulsively reached out his senses to touch Sirius' magic and then Remus' as well. He'd been able to touch both of their magic -- had been convinced at the time that he could have influenced it, moved it, changed it. He simply hadn't dared to try.

Looking now across the table at his friend, he could sense her own magic -- quiet and contained, but powerful, ruled tightly by knowledge and logic. Salazar Slytherin had explained exactly how to do this -- so easily. Was it not something that was common amongst Wizards?

"Hermione?" he said reluctantly. "I can sort of. . .sense everyone's magic."

For a long moment, Hermione just stared at him, her normally calm face tense and thoughtful. "That's probably not something you should go around telling people, Harry," she said at last.

"Then it's not---"

"Normal? No," she shook her head. "But then again, you're not normal, and I think you understand that, don't you? You're not like the rest of us. I think you're more like Dumbledore -- he can probably do the same. I always wondered how he was able to read people so well, you know?"

He nodded reluctantly. He'd had that particular veil lifted from his eyes in the Winter Lands when he'd learned exactly where he stood in the Wizarding World. His power level set him apart for most everyone.

Harry glanced down at the paper lying on the table. Ginny was right; it was a rather passionate embrace. He felt profoundly miserable. "So you're saying that when I turn seventeen. . ." he trailed off, not really wanting to finish the thought.

Hermione impulsively reached across the table and took hold of one of his hands. "Harry, I'm not saying you have to get an annulment. I'm just saying you can if you want. You were forced into this marriage because of the Minister's foolishness. You can be free to choose for yourself if that's what you want."

"But the Marriage Stone picked him for me," Harry reminded her. Somehow it was important that he hold onto that fact. It seemed the only substantial thing in his life at the moment.

A faint smile touched Hermione's lips. "I know that, Harry," she nodded. "I'm just saying--"

"That if I want to be free, I can be," Harry finished. "And what about Severus? What if he's the one who wants to be free? What if he wants to be free, and I don't? Or what if I do and he doesn't?" Oh, hell, he thought, what if that's what Severus had meant this morning -- 'before I forget myself' -- before he did something that would prevent the annulment he was already planning? A sharp pain twisted his heart.

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, drawing his attention back to her and away from the thoughts that were now racing in his head. "This was about you, Harry, not him. I doubt very much that he'll ask for an annulment. There would be no reason for him to do so."

He frowned at that. "Why not?"

She just shrugged. "He was raised in the Wizarding World -- he grew up expecting his marriage to be arranged. And as marriages go, he couldn't have picked better than you. Unless he absolutely could not stand your company, he would have no reason to end your marriage. And I'd say it's safe to bet that he's grown rather fond of you."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, his heart pounding.

Her gaze softened as if she heard something more in his words than a simple question. "You didn't see the look on his face that day in Hogsmeade when you were shot with those arrows, or the way he sat at your bedside until you were better. And that was months ago, Harry. And who was it who went into the Winter Lands after you -- Sirius and Remus who love you, and Severus Snape."

Severus' words came back to him suddenly -- 'duty was the last thing on my mind when I went into the Winter Lands after you' -- those words had filled him with such warmth. He clung to them now almost desperately, for this new knowledge Hermione had given him made him feel like the rock upon which he stood had been yanked out from underneath him. This family he had insisted he had, this home he had come to crave -- they could very well all be temporary. Just like everything else in his life.

"Are you sorry I told you?" Hermione asked him.

He stared at her. Was he sorry? He needed to know -- he realized that of course. How much worse would it be if several months from now Severus surprised him with the news? Or maybe it wouldn't be Severus -- maybe Sirius or Dumbledore would simply arrange things in the background and let him know after the fact.

"No," he told her. "It's better to know."

An odd look crossed her face and she glanced down at the paper again. "You know, Harry," she began slowly. "Being married to Professor Snape protects you from a lot of things. You needed to know about this not just in case it was something you do want, but in case it's something you don't want."

"What do you mean?"

"While you're here in Hogwarts, Dumbledore can keep people away from you. And since you're married there's a lot of people who won't approach you." She nodded toward the newspaper. "The gossip columns are always filled with stories about foreign dignitaries and other famous people -- and your name comes up frequently. There's a good chance that when you turn seventeen some of those people may start to approach you if they think your marriage isn't real. People might try to separate you from Professor Snape if there's the slightest chance."

Harry knew immediately that this had something to do with those questions the reporters had asked him about the Pharaoh and the Shelong brothers. It sounded like there were more than just those as well. And he understood the implications Hermione was hinting at -- that he could take steps to ensure that his marriage was valid before anything happened. And how hard would that be? Severus did indeed seem to be physically attracted to him -- would it be that hard to talk him into something more?

The problem was Harry didn't feel ready for that -- and besides it would be morally wrong to trick Severus into something if he didn't really want it. He sighed wearily, the weight on his shoulders feeling like it was growing heavier by the minute.

Abruptly, Hermione pushed aside the newspaper, and stood up. "Come on, Harry," she stated, holding out her hand toward him. "Let's go down to the Quidditch Pitch and watch the workmen."

Taking her hand he rose to his feet. "Can we throw things at them?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded. "Definitely!"

Hand-in-hand they walked out of the Great Hall -- anything to keep his mind off the chaos that was his life.

------------

Author's Note:

Well, you knew the subject would have to come up eventually, didn't you? I thought Hermione would be the best person to finally clue Harry into this little piece of news since she's likely the only one who would realize that Harry would be clueless on the subject.

This was rather an odd chapter to write -- mostly because it references so many previous chapters. Harry is starting to piece together disjointed bits of information he's received over the school year. As many of you may have suspected -- a lot of this is going to come to a head really soon. We have some major plot action coming up in the next chapters as finally Voldemort begins to show his hand and a number of major things will finally be explained.

And for those of you who have been asking -- yes, the Dursleys will make a reappearance fairly soon. I should warn you all -- the war with Voldemort is going to affect the Muggle world in a very BIG way.

I'm getting a lot of email from people asking me 'why don't Harry and Severus just talk to each other' -- well, they're trying, they're just not very good at it. Statistics show that most people who read male/male slash fiction are female, and we women love to talk about things. Men, however, do not. (Maybe my male readers will confirm this?) They'd rather do things instead of talk about them. Severus is saying volumes when he teaches Harry the sword. Harry is saying volumes when he sits at home in the evenings in Severus' company. They're shouting at each other -- both are just a bit deaf. So patience, young grasshoppers! The story is what it is.

Thank you all for the great reviews! I can't believe we're nearing 5000 reviews. I never expected such a great response when I started this story. Of course I also never expected this story to be so long -- it was really just supposed to be a normal cliche of Snape marries Harry. Glad you are all enjoying the journey with me!

P.S. No workmen were injured in the writing of this chapter.


	59. Chapter 59 Something Wicked

Chapter 59 -- Something Wicked

It had been a stressful two weeks for everyone in the castle as the students returned from holiday and the Quidditch Pitch underwent rapid transformation with dozens of workmen coming and going at all hours of the day and night. When Dumbledore announced that first day back from holiday that any student over the age of sixteen could try out for the National Team, the excitement that had taken over the student population had been palpable.

For Harry, the stress was doubly so. All the Gryffindors wanted him to try out for the team, and no matter how many times he tried to explain how dangerous that would be for everyone involved, there were still many who thought it worth the risk. It was Quidditch after all.

Beyond that, he also found himself trying to read something into everything Severus said to him. Even an innocuous question about how his day had gone left Harry wondering what he might mean -- was he genuinely interested or was he just being polite?

He noticed too every time the man casually touched him -- as if ever since that kiss his body had become overly sensitized to Severus' presence. And he was more aware now than ever of the sense of magic he could feel emanating from the man -- vibrating just beneath the surface of his skin. How easy it would be to become addicted to that sensation, to grow to crave its presence.

While there was no repeat of that kiss, Severus did seem strangely attentive to him and it soothed some raw nerve inside of Harry as it seemed to confirm that Hermione had been right -- that Severus had indeed grown fond of him. But for the first time in Harry's life, he found himself dreading the approach of his birthday, dreading the decision that he knew might suddenly be thrust upon him.

The day before the national tryouts, crowds began arriving. Quidditch players from every professional team in the league showed up for the tryouts, drawing with them scores of fans that wanted a chance to see them play. Hogsmeade filled up rapidly, and after that tents began lining the road to Hogwarts. True to his decision, Dumbledore kept everyone out of the castle, refusing admittance to even the famous players who came calling. Only the scores of Aurors who had come to manage crowd-control were allowed inside the castle gates.

Classes continued despite the distraction, the teachers putting in a valiant effort. But many of the teachers were also caught up in the excitement -- after all, there were few Wizards or Witches who didn't love Quidditch or who didn't have a favorite team or player. Everyone had bought tickets to the match.

On the day of the tryouts Harry woke with a faint headache as if he'd tossed and turned all night with dark dreams. But of course like always he'd taken his potion before bed and had slept too deeply for that to be true. Nonetheless he felt uneasy, and he decided for once to eat breakfast in their quarters rather than face the chaos of the Great Hall.

Not surprisingly Severus joined him, sitting beside him at a small table that Dobby set up with various breakfast servings. When the fire flared and Sirius and Remus flooed into the room, Severus did not even protest when they sat down at the table and joined them for the meal.

Harry knew all three men were nervous about the day and the security of the event. Harry, like all the students, would be going to the tryouts. The Minister had decided that it would be a great show of national pride for all the students to be present in their House colors, each carrying a British flag. As this event would be covered heavily by both the national and international press, the Minister was taking every chance for a good photo opportunity. And while he could not force Harry to try out for the team -- though that had nearly sent the man into a rage -- he could insist that all students be present as part of a school activity.

Both Severus and Dumbledore had gotten the Minister to agree to certain security measures -- after all the man didn't want to be known as the Minister who'd gotten Harry Potter killed. Harry, along with Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Draco who by mere association would also make good targets to any enemy, would be surrounded by Order members. Severus and Remus would stay at his side at all times, as would Dumbledore and most of the elder Weasleys -- Molly who was now several months pregnant would remain home.

Even Sirius had insisted on remaining at Harry's side -- he and Remus had been working on his disguise. Deciding that a dog was still too obvious, Remus had perfected the illusion of making Padfoot look like a very large orange cat. As Crookshanks was a well-known figure in Hogwarts, no one would glance twice at an orange cat in Hermione's presence. Still the thought made Harry incredibly nervous. There would be Aurors everywhere. All it would take was one mistake and Sirius would be captured.

"Don't worry so much," Sirius told him at breakfast, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Nothing is going to happen to me."

"It would be safer if you stayed out of sight," Harry insisted. He glanced over at Remus and Severus wanting both of them to back him up on this statement. Remus, he noticed, looked just as stressed as he did, but Severus' face was as unreadable as usual. Neither man, however, said anything.

"Harry," Sirius sighed. "Nothing is going to keep me from protecting you. If something happens today -- if the Death Eaters attack -- we'll need all of us there to protect you."

Another glance at Remus and Severus only confirmed to Harry that they felt the same way Sirius did. Despite the risk, they wanted as many people as possible around Harry as they could get. So united in this were the three men that they didn't even bicker amongst themselves that morning, and Harry resigned himself to the situation.

Around noon, the students of Hogwarts began making their way to the newly redesigned Quidditch Pitch, fighting through the mobs of people filling the stands. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco, surrounded by their Order guards and several Aurors, were led through a private entrance into the main stands, where they were escorted to a private box at the top of a long staircase which led down through row after row of bleachers and finally down onto the field of the Quidditch Pitch.

Like all Quidditch Pitches this remained an outdoor auditorium, but the stands had been expanded far beyond their original capacity. Twice as tall now, they started at ground level where Harry assumed the cheapest seats were located, and rose high into the air to tall private boxes with far more luxurious seating. Already the place was filled nearly to capacity, thousands of Wizards and Witches shuffling about finding their seats, cheering randomly when they spotted some player joining the others who were already circling in the air on brooms high overhead. The day was perfect -- clear skies, crisp breeze -- it seemed idyllic.

Seated next to Severus and Remus, a large orange cat resting comfortably on Remus' lap, Harry stared in amazement at the sight before him. Though nothing more than a tryout for the National Team, the crowd reminded him of the Quidditch World Cup he'd attended just before his fourth year. He didn't imagine that the Hogwarts stands would ever again have so many people in them -- the stands would look positively empty from now on when they had their school games. The small number of Hogwarts students would barely fill one section of the stands.

"Bit of an overkill," Hermione commented -- she was sitting directly behind Harry with Ron and Ginny. Draco, who was sitting in the row below Harry next to Charlie and Arthur Weasley, overheard her statement and turned around.

"It's ridiculous!" he agreed, surprising all of them. Was he actually agreeing with Hermione? "No one is going to be able to hear the crowd cheer when I beat you in our next school game, Potter."

They'd all been treated to a rather spectacular temper tantrum when Severus had informed the blond that he too could not risk trying out for the National Team -- that his connection to the Weasley family made it far too dangerous. But eventually he'd calmed down -- no doubt allowing himself to be appeased by Charlie's affection. While outwardly the Slytherin boy was still as prickly as ever, he seemed to melt whenever Charlie smiled at him.

Surprisingly, Draco's comment was the first thing anyone had said all day that put Harry at ease -- this was normal, this was familiar -- Draco Malfoy insulting his Quidditch skills. He grinned down at the Slytherin. "Beat me?" he scoffed. "Since when have you ever beaten me?"

The blond smirked up at him. "I've just been lulling you into a false sense of security. I'm going to kick your ass at the next game. Slytherin is taking the house cup this year."

"Hah!" the voice of Minerva McGonagall surprised all of them. She was seated a few seats to the left, next to Dumbledore, and had been listening in on the conversation. She along with Severus and Dumbledore were the only teachers not sitting with the Hogwarts students. All of them had felt it more prudent for them to remain near Harry. "The house cup is Gryffindor's."

Severus leaned forward in his seat, glancing down the row toward the woman. "Fifty galleons says it's not," he commented, much to Draco's delight.

"You're on!" McGonagall agreed, then glared at Harry. "You're getting me that cup, young man!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry nodded quickly, then threw a dirty look at Severus. "You're betting against me?"

He just shrugged. "I'm betting against Gryffindor."

"Hey, that's Galvin Gudgeon from the Chudley Cannons!" Ron exclaimed in excitement, catching all their attention. They all turned to see a blur streak by on a broom. More and more would-be Seekers were entering the Pitch. Soon, despite the potential danger, they were all caught up in the excitement of the event.

Briefly, the Minister stopped by their box with a retinue of Aurors around him as he greeted people with a friendly smile. He asked Harry once again if he'd like to change his mind and give the tryouts a go, only to back down when his words were met with a dozen glares. He excused himself and then headed along the walkway toward his own box nearby. Once there he used a Sonorous spell on himself and welcomed everyone to the event.

There were photographers everywhere and they flashed photo after photo as the Minister spoke -- but Harry couldn't help notice how many of those cameras were turned toward him instead of the Minister. He felt Severus move fractionally closer to him until his leg was pressed up against Harry's own, the heat from the man's body reassuring. Harry resisted the impulse to reach over and take hold of the man's hand.

Not knowing what a professional tryout consisted of, Harry was surprised when the rules of the first round were explained to the cheering crowd and all the players. There were over fifty potential Seekers trying out for the National spot. All of them would take to the air, and five hundred snitches would be released at once. The ten players who caught the most snitches would advance to the next round. The event promised to be truly spectacular and utterly chaotic -- and Harry regretted deeply the constrains that kept him from being out there in the air flying with the others.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and Ron gave him a sympathetic smile. He nodded his head in agreement. The red-haired boy knew exactly what he must be feeling and the commiseration eased his heart.

The crowd screamed wildly when the snitches were released, and the players who'd been hovering overhead took off like a shot, swooping down into dives to catch the snitches even before they could get much air. Harry spotted Marci Alegar of the Appleby Arrows grab two snitches in one swipe, stuffing them both into her shirt before heading off after several others. And across the pitch Marco Halifax of the Falmouth Falcons was scooping snitches out of the air with his hat. The crowd was cheering their favorite players even as some of the snitches dive-bombed various spectators prompting them to catch one or two of them out of the air.

Swept up in the excitement of the show, Harry was caught off guard when his headache suddenly returned with a vengeance, striking him sharply between the eyes. Beneath the noise of the cheering crowd, his gasp went unheard, and he took a deep breath as he closed his eyes against the pain. For a moment he felt a strong tugging sensation as if he were being yanked away by a portkey, and yet the sensation of the seat beneath him and the warmth of Severus next to him never once faded away, assuring him that he had not gone anywhere. He could still hear the roaring of the crowd around him and the cheering of his friends as various players caught more and more snitches.

Nonetheless he saw something completely different before him, felt thoughts moving through his mind that were not his own. One moment he was watching the Quidditch game, and the next he standing in a cold ice field in Northern Canada, a hundred miles north of Yellowknife.

'Humans, so far way,' the thought drifted through his mind, cold and alien, and this mind focused on the strange sigil he traced upon the ground in the predawn light.

His mind flashed again, and now he was in the middle of a Nebraskan cornfield and there were humans closer, sleeping nearby in several houses. He felt hunger well inside him, but again he turned his mind to the sigil he traced upon the ground.

Then he was in the middle of the Amazon, life teaming around him, the air humid and heavy, and the hunger grew once again for this time he could feel not just humans nearby but Wizards, magic. Again he traced his sigil upon the ground and moved on, crossing over time zones in the blink of an eye.

There was nothing but ice now, down on the bottom of the world, but the sigil still burned hard and bright into the frozen earth where he traced it. And then he was in the middle of the Australian Outback and he could feel life far to the east in Alice Springs where there were both Wizards and Muggles mixed together. His hunger grew again as he swiftly drew his sigil.

There was a human waiting for him in the middle of the forest in Indonesia and the man screamed when he devoured him whole before leaving his mark upon the ground. A swollen river in China and empty grasslands in Russia kept the humans away and his hunger grew greater when he marked the ground, his thoughts on his final destination. There would be Wizards there -- as many as he wanted, he'd been promised.

He could smell blood on the ground in Darfur as he left his sigil there, and so much turmoil in the sands of Egypt as he marked the desert. And then he turned his attention north toward the Wizard-populated Europe where his journey at last would end, and his hunger would be sated. Southern France first, and then finally, England where he'd been told he could feed until there were no more bodies to devour.

Harry shook off the strange thoughts filling his head, forced his mind back into the present, into the now where Severus was beside him along with Remus and Sirius and all the others he called family and friends. They were all still watching the Quidditch players and their mad dash for Snitches, utterly unaware of what was coming toward them.

He reached to the right and to the left, blindly groping for Severus' and Remus' hands catching them and squeezing tightly. Both men turned immediately toward him, Sirius, in his cat form, whipping his head around to see what was wrong.

"We have to get everyone out of here," Harry told them, his voice filled with panic, with certainty, with absolutely doom.

"Harry, what is it?" Severus asked immediately.

And then it was too late.

It appeared in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch. There were no wards to keep this thing out for it had walked this earth long before Wizards had even existed. And yet on some deep, horrible, instinctive level, everyone who saw it knew exactly what it was -- evil, demonic, some elder god from a long forgotten nightmare.

The creature was as tall as the Quidditch stands themselves, dwarfing even the giants of legend. Its skin was nothing more than dark, moving shadows, making its shape hard to distinguish -- though it seemed to have far too many arms and misshapen, flailing tentacles that might have been better suited to the giant squid. But there was no mistaking those glowing red eyes that dripped fire and set alight the grass of the Pitch, or the enormous mouth filled with row upon row of serrated teeth like some primordial shark.

It took only seconds for the cheers of the crowd to turn to screams of terror before people began scrambling from their seats to escape. But there was no suitable place to escape to -- for the only way out of the Pitch was downward, and the moment the creature saw movement, it reached out with enormous clawed hands and snatched up four people and stuffed them into its mouth. Rows of serrated teeth crunched down on the screaming, helpless victims and all out panic filled the Pitch.

Aurors rushed forward through the crowd and fired blast after blast of magic at the creature, but the shadowed skin of the monster absorbed the spells with little effect. Eventually their spells all turned bright green as they gave up on firing anything other than the Killing Curse itself --though those too barely phased the creature who was still picking up Wizards and Witches and devouring them whole.

Harry struggled against Severus and Remus who were pulling him up toward the highest point of the box they were in. "We have to do something!" he shouted to them, his eyes fixed on the creature below him and the people dying beneath the crunch of its teeth. The grass beneath the creature was turning red with blood. The stairs down to the field below were the only way out of the box, but Dumbledore and McGonagall had blasted a hole in the back wall and were busy transfiguring a set of stairs to lead them down behind the stands. The screams in the air were nearly deafening.

"Harry, there's nothing we can do!" Remus shouted to him.

"Banish it!" Harry shouted. "It's a demon. Someone must know how to banish it! There are spells to banish demons!"

Remus caught hold of Harry's shoulders when he struggled again. "Harry, that is not just a demon -- it's one of the elder demons, one of the old gods. There are no spells to banish it. Only the summoner can send it back. There's nothing we can do!"

"We have to get out of here, Harry," Severus confirmed as he pulled on Harry's arm, tugging him toward the opening Dumbledore had made. Other people in other boxes had seen what Dumbledore was doing -- and while some tried to mimic his actions, others instead simply swarmed toward their box intent on escaping down the swiftly transfiguring staircase. The Wards of Hogwarts kept anyone from apparating away.

Cursing, Severus and Remus both stepped forward to make more openings in the back walls -- knowing that if there were not more avenues of escape, everyone would be crushed trying to escape down the same stairs. Even Sirius had transformed back into his human form -- fear of capture gone in the face of this new terror.

But Harry found himself staring back down at the creature still devouring people below; it was starting to rip into the stands, pulling them apart with its tentacles to better reach the men and women trying to escape. And the children -- oh, god! Harry saw the students of Hogwarts trying to escape from their own section the same way they were -- blasting holes in the back of the top wall. But the did not have Dumbledore or McGonagall with them -- and the other teachers did not have the same skills with transfiguration. The students were trying instead to climb down the scaffolding that held up the stands, desperate to escape. Professor Sprout had managed to get vines to grow up the side of the scaffolding that the students could cling to, and Professor Flitwick was trying to levitate students down to the ground. Already Harry could see people jumping in desperation, only to lie unmoving or mangled upon the ground below.

This couldn't happen. Harry looked for the Aurors -- they were still firing Killing Curses. But their spells were having no effect. Many had given up, had turned to escape instead -- some few had gathered the Quidditch players and urged them to aid people to escape the stands on their brooms.

Harry did not understand why not one of them tried to banish the creature. There was a spell -- he knew a spell -- one that was supposed to banish anything. Hermione had taught it to him, though he had never practiced it. After all you could not practice banishing demons without first summoning one. And he knew -- just knew -- that he could not stand here and do nothing while around him men, women and children died.

He pushed past several large forms -- Weasleys he thought -- and raced toward the stairs. There was no resistance as he headed downward -- after all, everyone else was heading in the opposite direction, climbing over bleachers and chairs as they tried to reach the top of the stands. No one in their right mind was heading down toward the field below. He met no resistance, and only vaguely was aware of voices behind him shouting his name in a panic.

He was beyond terrified now, beyond panic, only one thought burning in his mind. He had to stop this -- why was no one stopping this? Why was no one banishing this thing? Screams filled the air, drowning out all other sounds. This was Hogwarts -- the Quidditch Pitch where he played his favorite game, where he'd fought Voldemort last year, where the Eye of Odin had exploded in his hands. And for a moment he thought he saw two ravens flying along side him as he raced down those stairs, two ravens leading him forward, cawing encouragement as he set foot upon the grassy field and ran toward the towering creature that was devouring innocent people.

The creature did not even notice him, so intent was it focused on the group of people it was picking off one by one from the section of stands it was tearing apart. Harry raised his wand. Killing Curses were still flashing through the air, absorbing harmlessly into the creature's shadowy skin.

He felt the surge of magic inside him, felt it bubbling up through the ground and into his veins. His body vibrated, but his wand held steady. He raised his voice and shouted. "Exsilium Regalis Numen!"

A blast of blinding white light shot from his wand and struck the creature in the chest. Instantly the thing turned those burning red eyes on Harry, a shriek of rage that shook the earth escaping from its throat. It locked gazes with Harry as that white light enveloped it and Harry felt a terrible force press against his mind as the thing fought back.

Oh, god, he thought as an ancient mind surrounded his, swallowing it whole. And still his wand hand held steady.

------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry had grabbed hold of Severus' hand and told him they had to get everyone out of there, Severus had felt true fear take over his heart. They had known, or guessed of course, that something might happen this day. But the look on Harry's face had held such terror that Severus wondered if they might have just grossly underestimated the trouble they might face.

A moment later he had his answer. The instant the creature had appeared in the center of the Pitch he knew immediately what it was -- knew also that all hope was lost.

He was reminded suddenly of the conversation he'd had with Lucius in January when he'd spoken of the Dark Lord's madness. He had said that this madness was something different, something unspeakable, and Severus now knew exactly what Lucius had seen. There were few things in this world that would truly horrify Lucius Malfoy -- but this creature was one of them. This creature, alone and unaided, could destroy the world. To have summoned such a thing -- to have unleashed it upon a helpless population -- defied all logic. There would be no England to rule when this creature was done with it, and surely even the Dark Lord would understand that basic fact.

Dumbledore, never one to delay when action was needed, gathered them all and blasted a hole in the back of the stands, both he and Minerva using their extraordinary abilities to transfigure stairs that would take them out the back way. Catching on quickly to what they were doing, Bill and the twins opted for a quicker option and set their own magic to transfiguring not stairs but poles for the more nimble members of their group to slide down.

Severus and Remus stayed at Harry's side, Sirius transforming to take up guard position as they realized that they might well have to hold off that creature if it turned its attention toward them. He knew the Killing Curses the Aurors were casting would do no good -- but a strong shielding charm might be able to hold the thing back physically -- at least for a moment.

And then he heard Harry arguing with Remus, shouting as they both tried to push him upward toward the opening in the wall.

"Harry, there's nothing we can do!" Remus shouted to him.

"Banish it!" Harry shouted. "It's a demon. Someone must know how to banish it! There are spells to banish demons!"

He heard Remus explain the situation to Harry, before he added his own agreement. "We have to get out of here, Harry," he insisted, only to spot the mob of people from the other boxes swarming toward them, having seen the escape route Dumbledore and the others were still making.

"Lupin!" Severus shouted, urging the werewolf to help him make more openings -- they'd be crushed beneath the onslaught of people if they didn't so something. The Weasleys' idea of the poles was a good one -- the younger Wizards and Witches could easily slide to the ground.

He felt Harry slip from his grasp even as he tried to pull the boy after him upward to the back wall. Turning swiftly, he pushed aside several people as he tried to see where the boy had gone. His heart dropped into his stomach when he spotted him racing down the stairs toward the field below.

"Harry!" he shouted, panic over taking him now. What in Merlin's name was the boy doing? He couldn't be thinking of taking that thing on alone -- couldn't possibly believe there was anything at all he could do against it if even Dumbledore had not attempted a single spell?

His shout caught the attention of the others, and they all turned to look toward the fleeing boy. "Harry!" the shout was taken up by more than one person -- and Severus could not imagine facing life alone after all this.

It was utter madness, but he raced after the boy, pushing past people still fighting their way to the top of the stands -- why did everyone move out of the boy's path, but his was blocked again and again? He couldn't let this happen! Couldn't let Harry face that thing -- he refused to let Harry die.

And if Harry did die -- then Severus would die too -- go down fighting with his last breath. All sense of self-preservation, of rationality, of reason, fled from Severus as he raced after his bond mate -- if this madness was what it meant to be a Gryffindor, then he would die a Gryffindor. Judging by the shouts of familiar voices behind him, following on his heels, he suspected he would be dying in good company.

Harry reached the field and was racing across it long before Severus cleared the stairs. It was sheer disbelief that finally stopped Severus in his tracks for he heard clearly the spell the boy cast at the creature. Everyone in the Quidditch Pitch heard the spell -- for Harry's voice rose above even the screams of terror, amplified by the waves of magic that exploded from the boy's body.

It was foolishness, madness, pure folly -- for that spell was not real. It was nothing more than a child's fairy tale -- a Wizarding legend that no one believed in any more. The King's Banishment -- a spell that held only a passing footnote in history books these days, because of course it did not work. A spell that was said to have the power to banish anyone, anything from this world.

But only if spoken by the King himself.

When a blast of blinding white light shot from Harry's wand and struck the creature drawing its attention toward the boy, Severus understood everything all too clearly. He knew now what it meant that Harry could use the King's Voice when no one else could. He knew what the royal white stag signified. He knew why sacred capstones danced when Harry touched them, or why the Earth herself obeyed his commands. He knew why the Black Wyrms had bowed to him, and why the proud Vikings of the Winter Land had so gleefully knelt in his presence. He understood it all in that instant.

And just as suddenly he understood that it didn't matter -- all that mattered was that the ancient creature had turned its burning gaze upon the Wizard that he loved, and that all it would take would be one swipe from one of those terrible claws and it would all be over. The thing was moving forward, arms raised, tentacles thrashing -- poised to strike. The white light of Harry's spell was burning it -- filling the shadows inside its skin -- but not swiftly enough.

Gripping his own wand tightly in his hand, Severus raced forward, desperate to reach Harry's side. He raised his hand, wand steady. "Protego Maximus!" he shouted, and channeled every ounce of magic he had into the shield that he raised between Harry and the creature.

When the first blow came, a flailing tentacle, it smashed against that shield and sent Severus staggering beneath the effects of the blow. Beside him he heard another voice shouting, "Protego Maximus!" Sirius Black cast his own shield just over Severus' joining his strength to the Slytherin's. The two of them barely held off the next blow that shook the ground.

"Protego Maximus!" a third voice shouted, and this time the strength of the werewolf joined their shield -- that magic blending in perfectly with the magic of Sirius, the two men joined on a level Severus could not manage, having never shared a tandem connection before. More bone crushing blows came, shattering against their shields, and Severus feared that even with the two Marauders beside him it would not be enough.

More voice joined them suddenly -- Ron Weasley and beside him Hermione Granger, both students unwilling to abandon their friend even in the face of such certain death. And then he heard Arthur Weasley joining his son, and the twins next, their magic also joined on a level only close siblings could manage. Bill and Percy joined a moment later, and then Charlie and Ginny, and Severus spared them all a brief glance to see the row of redheads who stood beside him, all terrified, but brave. . .so brave in the face of this thing.

And then beyond imagining, a new voice joined theirs, one filled with terror, trembling but strong as Draco Malfoy stood beside them, perhaps deciding, like Severus had, that death was better than living alone.

The blows came harder now, faster, and their shields were shaking -- all of them together not enough -- too disconnected, too separate to hold for long. He heard McGonagall join them, but even her enormous power could not long hold back the crushing blows that rushed down upon them.

And then he heard the voice he had been waiting for -- the one Wizard alone who might stand a chance in this battle. Dumbledore stood behind them all and raised his wand. But it was not a shield he cast.

"Iunctum!" he shouted and his spell struck all of them, and to Severus' amazement it joined them all for one brief, brilliant moment, knitting all their magic together into one perfect, unified stream. The separate shields vanished, merging instead into one that flared with life as blow after crushing blow rained down upon them.

United, behind the boy who would save them all, they stood their ground and did not waver.

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Author's Notes:

When I first started writing this story, I honestly intended it to be a simple love story about a forced marriage -- nothing more. But while I was writing chapter one, two rather unusual scenes came to me unexpectedly. This was the first of the two. I had no idea how I was going to get here -- Harry facing down some sort of Cthuluian monster with all his family shielding him -- but I knew that this was the direction this story was going to go.

Are we near the end? Is this the climax --- no, sorry if you were expecting that. You might say this is the start of the things Harry and Severus have yet to face. I did warn you that Voldemort would eventually turn nasty.

Regarding this scene -- Draco wasn't in my original vision, but I have to say I've grown surprisingly fond of the blond. He just couldn't bring himself to abandon Charlie. And I totally love the idea of Sirius masquerading as Crookshanks.

I'm hard at work on the next chapter -- which incidentally is much harder than this one to write. I decided to give this one to you a bit early, but bear with me while I work on the next. All the pieces have to fall properly into place.


	60. Chapter 60 The King's Voice

Chapter 60 - The King's Voice

United behind the great shield they held over top of Harry Potter, they all saw the moment when Harry's spell utterly consumed the great creature that would destroy them all. The brilliant light shining from Harry's wand finally filled all the shadows shifting beneath the creature's skin, and the elder demon screamed in despair as the Earth itself denied its existence. One moment it was there, burning with light, and the next moment it was gone, banished from this world by magic itself.

Their shield dropped when the danger was gone, all of them drained beyond comprehension. For one still, quiet moment they all stared at the slender form of the Wizard who had saved them, wand still raised, his red and gold Gryffindor scarf blowing in the crisp breeze. He was shaking -- Severus and the others could see that -- trembling in shock. But so were they all. Every man, woman and child in the Quidditch Pitch was trapped in the same moment -- blind terror giving way so swiftly to relief that all of them were unable to do anything more than simply stare. Despite the utter chaos that had reigned only moments before, the entire stadium seemed to be holding its breath.

Slowly, Harry lowered his arm, and then turned with cautious, deliberate movements as if in pain. Every eye in the stadium was upon him, every body poised in tense stillness. There was a look upon Harry's face that Severus had never seen before. Amid the exhaustion and overwhelming magical drain that was sending tremors through his body, there was a deep horror behind his eyes of someone who had looked into the darkness and found it staring back.

Harry tried to take a step toward them, but staggered under the strain. A collective gasp echoed through the pitch and everyone took a step forward as if to catch him as he dropped. But it was Severus and Sirius who actually reached him, both of them taking hold of one of his arms as his knees buckled beneath him. They caught him, held him between them, and for a brief moment Severus' eyes locked with Sirius' as they silently shared this burden between them. He could see the same emotion in the man's eyes that filled his own heart -- fear, confusion, and an overwhelming need to protect Harry from what still lay ahead of him.

When Severus had first researched the King's Voice spell months ago, he had focused only on the research done over the years as leaders and military commanders had modified the spell for various applications until finally someone had invented the Imperious and brought a new Unforgivable to the world. He had utterly dismissed the original references to the spell as something Merlin himself had created for the sole use of King Arthur. After all, it was just a legend, as were the list of other spells mentioned in that grouping created by Merlin.

But one of those special spells of Merlin -- The King's Banishment -- had made its way into children's fairytales. Every Wizarding child heard the story about the great monster that threatened a village until it was banished by the King with a spell only the true King of the Wizarding World could utter. Harry had just pulled the proverbial sword from the stone, and he had no idea what it signified to all those looking on, what deep primordial emotion that gripped them all.

That singular gasp and the aborted movement of the crowd caught Harry's attention, and those bewildered, haunted green eyes sought out his, and then rose to sweep over the thousands of Wizards staring down at them.

For a moment, Harry did not react and then they all saw a wealth of emotions flashing through his eyes, horror and grief most clearly visible. He shook his head as if in denial of the total attention he commanded.

Using the strength of Severus' and Sirius' arms he pulled himself upright and turned to face the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the silent masses still watching him, waiting for something to snap them out of their shock. "Get up!" he shouted to all of them, his voice raw with emotion. "There are people injured, trapped! Help them! Help each other!" The young man who wanted no authority, no power, spoke a command and everyone in the stadium moved instantly to obey.

His words galvanized them all. Chaos surrounded them as rescue efforts began instantly, the Aurors along with Dumbledore moving to take charge. One set of stands had collapsed and people were trapped beneath the rubble -- other people had jumped or fallen from the stands and were lying injured on the ground. Those the creature had devoured were gone and would never be recovered.

Severus and Sirius along with Remus and the others tried to maneuver Harry through the crowds, helping out where they could, but focused more on getting into Hogwarts. Time and time again people grabbed Harry's hand and kissed it, or tried to touch his face or his hair or the scar upon his forehead. Harry, too exhausted to do more than stagger forward with the aid of Severus and Sirius, seemed almost insensate to the touches. He smiled faintly at people, but Severus was fairly certain that the boy had little understanding of what was truly happening here.

As more Aurors and medical personnel from St. Mungo's began arriving via portkey it became apparent that they had to get Harry into the castle as his mere presence would soon begin hampering the recovery efforts as crowds gathered round him. The initial shock had worn off as well, and people were reacting now to the terror they had all endured, some sobbing uncontrollably, others calling out the names of loved ones as they tried to find each other in the chaos. It reminded Severus all too much of the chaos he had returned to at the end of last year when he'd arrived back at Hogwarts just at the end of the battle against Voldemort and the explosion of the Eye of Odin. The memory was likely not doing Harry any good either and he couldn't help wondering in despair if Harry was doomed to end every school year this way.

Of course the school year was not yet over, he reminded himself. And after these events, he knew that life for Harry had once again just changed irrevocably. Things that had only been whispered about, vague rumors, the garish headlines in the papers -- they were nothing to what Harry would now face after this. He had no doubt that every pureblood in the stands that day, everyone raised as a child in the Wizarding World, would know the stories of The King's Banishment. The events of the day would spread across the planet within hours.

Severus' heart was pounding as these thoughts became clearer and clearer in his head. The entire world had wanted Harry prior to this day -- how much worse would it be now? And how would Severus ever keep them away? He could not bear the thought of letting Harry go.

Between all of them they managed to get through the gates of Hogwarts -- they were open now as people were being taken into the infirmary before being transferred to St. Mungo's. They hurried Harry through the halls, taking him to a private room near the main staff lounge, the very room Harry and Severus had been married in. Severus was worried now about the violent tremors racking Harry's body, and once he and Sirius had settled him upon a couch, Remus wrapped a cloak around his shoulders to stave off any chill that might accompany magical exhaustion.

The other's settled around the room, Ron and Hermione actually sitting on the floor at Harry's feet in an effort to stay close to him as Severus and Sirius took the spots on either side of him on the couch. The twins took up guard position at the door, and across the room Severus could see Charlie comforting a clearly upset Draco. That the Slytherin boy had joined them out on the field was amazing -- Draco was not well known for his acts of bravery, and the action had left him shaken.

Near the door Dumbledore and McGonagall were conversing softly together in a rather urgent manner. They spoke briefly to Arthur, before finally turning toward Severus. "We'll be back as soon as possible," Albus told him, his worried gaze resting briefly on Harry. "We have to see to the students."

Severus nodded in understanding. In truth it was his responsibility to see to the Slytherins, but he could not imagine leaving Harry at this moment.

"We'll go," Bill and Percy both offered, seeing the dilemma. Severus nodded in relief. Both of them had in their time been head boys, and would know enough to deal properly with the Slytherin students. If he had to take a guess it be unlikely that any Slytherin student had been wounded. They would have done everything in their power to ensure their own safety -- not one of them would have attempted to jump from the stands.

As Albus and the other's left the room, he found himself squeezing Harry's hand, not certain if he was trying to offer comfort or receive it himself. Unused to such a public display as even handholding, he was unable to even guess at his own motives for doing such a thing. It was odd really -- but he could not bring himself to let go.

And then somewhere, far off in the distance, he heard a deep bell sounding. Frowning, Severus glanced around the room, checking the reactions of the Weasleys. He'd never heard such a sound in Hogwarts -- it was not one of the castle's bells. But oddly enough no one else reacted to the sound.

Great, he thought. Now he was hearing things.

--------------------------------------

Harry desperately wanted to sleep. It wasn't just the exhaustion, it was the chaos in his mind, the horrible images that -- thing-- had left there in his head when it had touched his thoughts.

He was only marginally aware of what was going on around him, the journey back into Hogwarts passing in a bit of blur. He knew he was sitting on a couch, and that someone had draped a cloak or a blanket over his shoulders. Vaguely he was aware of people talking. Someone was holding his hand. And there were two ravens sitting on the mantle over the fireplace, watching him. When the chaos in his mind got too loud they would caw at him and the madness would move back into the darkness briefly.

It was nice when they cawed -- though really there shouldn't be words buried within the sound. Ravens weren't supposed to talk, but he supposed he could forgive them.

Harry frowned curiously down at his hand, noting the larger hand closed around his. It was a strong hand, though it held onto his gently but firmly. A well-formed, graceful looking hand, he decided, noting the faint yellow and purplish stains around the various fingertips. He could feel calluses along the palm, and found himself lightly running one finger over the callous on the inside edge of the thumb. He knew that callous was caused by holding a sword hilt -- he had one of his own after all the sword lessons. All and all it was a very nice hand, Harry decided, and he rather liked the fact that it was holding onto his. It felt good, it felt strong, like he could draw energy from it if his own faltered. And like the cawing, it seemed to keep the darkness back as well. And thinking about that hand was much nicer than thinking about anything else.

He stared in bemusement at the stains upon those fingers, trying to figure out what might have caused them. Paint perhaps -- he'd finger-painted in primary school and he remembered it staining his fingers interesting colors. But he was fairly certain finger-painting was not an adult pastime, and this was definitely a man's hand. No, the stains were most likely something else, like potion ingredients perhaps.

Amazement flooded through Harry. This was Severus' hand hold his own. Which meant that Severus was sitting beside him -- as was someone else, for he could feel the warmth of an arm draped over his shoulders.

He found himself looking up -- yes, that was Severus there beside him, holding his hand -- in public no less-- and staring down at the floor as if expecting it to do something. Turning his head he saw that it was Sirius on the other side him, and for some reason he thought that something about that fact should alarm him.

A quick glance around the room revealed other familiar faces, Ron and Hermione sitting on the floor at his feet. Why on earth they were on the floor, Harry did not understand. Wizards could conjure chairs after all -- he'd seen Dumbledore do it often enough. Some of the other Weasleys were there as well -- not Molly of course. Molly was pregnant. Harry smiled faintly at that. He clearly remembered Ron banging his head against a wall as he muttered over and over again that parents weren't supposed to do things like that.

Hidden in the shadows along the edge of the room were about a dozen house elves. He smiled at Dobby who seemed to be waiting patiently for someone to summon him. When the little elf saw him smile, he immediately vanished and then reappeared directly in front of him. With a snap of his fingers, a low table filled with chocolate and pastries as well as a full service of tea and pumpkin juice appeared nearby. A moment later the elf vanished only to reappear once again in the shadows along the edge of the room. How odd, Harry thought, that they were all just standing there waiting. Were they guarding something, he wondered.

And then far off in the distance, as if from deep under the earth, Harry heard a bell tolling, low and resonant. It was an odd sound, one he'd never heard before, and yet was somehow familiar. A quick glance up at the two ravens revealed expressions of curiosity as they both tilted their heads to the side as if listening. Harry thought they looked rather smug -- if such things were possible for birds.

Someone pressed a piece of chocolate into his hand -- not the hand that Severus was still holding. Automatically Harry raised it to his lips and took a bite. He liked chocolate. It always reminded him of Remus and he found himself looking around for the werewolf. Sure enough he found the man crouched beside Sirius, a large bar of chocolate in his hands as if he'd just broken off a piece to give to Harry. He wondered why the man looked so worried -- he was cured after all. No more full moons.

The chocolate melted in his mouth and soothed some ache inside him -- magical stuff, chocolate! Harry tried to shake the fuzziness from his brain. Severus was still holding his hand. That was good. And Sirius was still sitting beside him with his arm draped over his shoulder. That was good too, though. . .wasn't Sirius supposed to be a cat? Or a dog? Crookshanks! Sirius was supposed to be Crookshanks. . .because Hermione really liked her cat. . .

Harry glanced down at Hermione. She was eating a piece of chocolate as well, and looked worried -- everyone looked so worried! That was odd. Had someone been screaming?

The ravens cawed at him again, and this time he definitely heard words, urging him to calm himself. He frowned at them. He was perfectly calm, he thought fiercely. He was just sitting there, eating his chocolate and holding hands with his Potions Master. Because Severus had really lovely hands now that he thought about it.

Both ravens laughed at that, and Harry gripped Severus' hand tighter, offended. He did have lovely hands, even if they were stained with potion ingredients! And he also had a lovely voice, just like melting chocolate, which he really liked. And he had beautiful eyes -- when they weren't angry -- though even then, they were interesting. And his nose -- he glared at the two ravens. They should talk! Big ol' beaks on both of them.

Severus had a really lovely body, though he'd only seen part of it very briefly while he was changing into his nightclothes. One of the ravens cawed again and Harry thought about that for a moment. Yes, he supposed he could ask Severus to remove all his clothing so that he could see the rest of him. That was bound to be interesting. Of course, all those buttons would probably take a long time to undo -- Severus seemed very fond of buttons! And he might ask Harry to return the favor, and Harry wasn't at all certain he wanted to take his clothes off in front of anyone. The few times he could remember his Aunt begrudgingly scrubbing him as a child in the bathtub, he remembered her very clearly telling him what an ugly little creature he was. He doubted he'd improved much with age.

The bell sounded again and Harry sighed. Such a strange sound, so deep and powerful -- he was fairly certain that the bell was very far away.

The sound of a door slamming open startled him, and he frowned when his hand was released and the arm around his shoulder was removed. How sad, he thought. He'd been rather enjoying the moment, drifting in warm comfort. He could hear someone shouting -- lots of shouting actually, but he was far more interested in the fact that Ron and Hermione got up from the floor and took Sirius' and Severus' place beside him. Both of them reached out to take one of his hands and Harry squeezed them both tightly. That was better. People really seemed to want to hold his hands today, and he couldn't remember a time when that had ever happened before. Maybe it was his birthday? Or Christmas? He really liked Christmas, and last Christmas had been the best ever.

Both ravens cawed at him, and Harry grimaced. But he didn't want to come back just yet, he protested. But they were insistent and Harry felt the fuzziness fading away from his mind.

Minister Fudge was in the room, and with him were a large group of Aurors, all their wands out. Severus and Arthur Weasley were shouting at Fudge, caught up in some heated argument. But Harry found his eyes traveling to where those drawn wands were pointing. Sirius! Sirius was standing in the center of the room staring at all of them, Remus standing protectively in front of him, and Harry could see by the wild look in the werewolf's eyes that he was nearly panic stricken.

Sirius! Harry's thoughts cleared in an instant as he remembered the events of the day. He forced all thoughts of the creature to the back of his mind, knowing if he focused on that he'd simply drift away again. Instead he focused on what the others had done -- they had shielded him. All of them. They had stood beside him on that field in front of the entire Wizarding World and had protected him. Which of course meant that Sirius Black had revealed himself to the public.

"You think I'm going to take the blame for this!" Fudge was yelling at Severus, all but spitting in his rage. "I won't go down for this! This wasn't my fault! Arrest him!" He was pointing his finger at Sirius and Harry understood in that instant exactly what the man intended. He would arrest the notorious murderer Sirius Black, and he would blame the events of the day on him.

One of the ravens whispered and Harry understood that the man would also do everything in his power to blame all of them -- Dumbledore included -- for harboring a criminal. To save himself, Fudge would destroy all of them.

"He risked his life to protect Harry," Severus shouted back at the man, defending Sirius. "You arrest him, you do anything to hurt Harry, and the crowds out there will tear you apart!"

"No!" Fudge snarled back. "I won't take the blame! Arrest him! Arrest them all!" He was shouting at the Aurors now who were looking more and more uncertain by the moment. Harry looked for Shaklebolt, but did not see him in the group. Stark was there, however, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He did not know whose side Stark was on, but the man had always been honorable.

"I doubt Mr. Potter wants us---" Stark began, only to be cut off by Fudge.

"You work for me! Not Potter!" Fudge snapped. "I am the Minister of Magic."

"But that spell he used," Stark protested. "They're saying that he's--"

"I don't care who he is!" Fudge exploded. "He's still subjected to the law!" As he continued to shout, several others moved in front of Sirius, while Ginny and Draco took up position near Harry. Harry could also see all those house elves around the edge of the room, poised and waiting, their tiny hands closed into fists.

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore's voice broke through the shouting as he and McGonagall re-entered the room. "What is the meaning of this?" His quick glance around the room no doubt answered the question for him.

Fudge glared at the old Wizard. "I'm here to arrest Sirius Black. You've been harboring a known criminal within the walls of Hogwarts -- "

"You're here to try and foist the blame for today's fiasco off on someone else!" one of the twins interrupted, which only riled up Fudge further, and he began shouting again, demanding Sirius' arrest despite the protests of Dumbledore and the others. The Aurors looked truly uncertain about what action to take, looking from Fudge to Dumbledore to Harry for answers as if no longer certain who they should listen to.

"We have to do something!" Harry hissed to Ron and Hermione. "We have to get Sirius out of here." He wondered if the house elves would help?

"The other spells, Harry," Hermione whispered back to him, catching his attention as he tried to understand what she was saying. She had a focused, intent look in her eyes as she stared at him. "The King's Voice, the King's Banishment. Do you remember the other spells in that grouping? The Aurors are just looking for one excuse not to do this, one legal impediment to disobey Fudge."

A legal impediment? Immediately Harry understood which spell Hermione was referring to -- the King's Law. But that spell was supposed to change entire laws. Why on earth would she think he'd have the ability to cast such a thing?

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "If the other spells worked for you, so will this. Why wouldn't it? They didn't work for me; they didn't work for Ron. They only worked for you."

He had to try of course. Sirius' life was in danger. Though surely it wasn't enough -- surely it would not stop the Aurors, a simple law?

Surprisingly as he stood, Draco reached out and gripped his wrist. He stared at the blond in surprise. "If you do this, Potter," the Slytherin said quietly. "It will confirm what they only now suspect. You understand that, don't you?"

He didn't really understand. He brain was not working right at the moment. But he did know one thing. "I have to save Sirius," he said simply. Truthfully he wasn't certain if he was even capable of throwing another spell at the moment -- his body hurt as if he'd run a marathon. When the cloak fell from around his shoulders and he started shivering, he suspected he was in much worse shape than he truly understood. Nonetheless, Draco released him, moving to stand behind him with Ron, Hermione and Ginny as they faced Fudge and the others.

Harry raised his wand, and despite his exhaustion felt the magic rising inside him. And when he spoke, his voice was heard over the shouting as if amplified. "Lex Legis Regalis!" he stated and the others all turned swiftly toward him in shock.

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a fiery scroll appear in midair, but he kept his eyes focused instead upon Sirius, who stood in the center of the room pale and trembling. "Sirius Black is an innocent man. The crimes he was accused of and sent to Azkaban for were committed by Peter Pettigrew, who is still alive and at large in the Wizarding World. The Ministry will no longer pursue Sirius Black, or press charges against anyone who aided him. So shall it be!"

His words as he spoke were written in fiery letters upon that burning scroll. And when at last he released the power of the spell, that scroll duplicated itself numerous times, most copies instantly vanishing to some unknown location. One copy alone remained, and dropped down out of the air, only to be caught neatly by Auror Stark. Harry, on the other hand, locked his knees beneath him, knowing that if he tried to move, either to step forward or back to his seat, he would collapse. The distant, tolling bell was louder now.

Even Fudge waited in silence as Stark examined the scroll in his hand. The Minister looked horrified, the expression on his face one Harry had never seen before. All the other Aurors were watching Stark, waiting for some response from him to determine how to react.

There was something almost gleeful in Stark's eyes when he finally looked up. He passed the scroll to Dumbledore. "It bears the seal of the white stag and the triple crown. You're the senior member of the Wizengamot, Headmaster. Execution of the law is ultimately your responsibility. But neither I nor my men will cross the orders of that seal."

"What!" Fudge shrieked in outrage. "You can't do this! I'm the Minister of Magic!"

Stark just glared at him. "You have no authority in this matter."

Fudge turned to stare at Dumbledore in disbelief as if willing the man to say something different. Dumbledore just shrugged. "This is old magic, Cornelius. The oldest we have. I would suggest you focus your efforts on repairing the damage out in the pitch rather than casting the blame on someone else. They say the consequence for any who cross this seal are dire."

"But, but, but!" Fudge protested.

But Stark caught hold of his arm. "Come, Minister. We are needed elsewhere. Let us leave these people in peace." The Aurors all inclined their heads to Harry before escorting the protesting Minister out of the room. The moment the door shut behind them, Harry's legs collapsed beneath him.

Ron and Hermione caught him this time, the others all rushing forward to help him up. In moments he found himself back on the couch, his two friends beside him, the others gathered around him as they tried to make sense of the events. Dumbledore still clutched the scroll in his hands.

"Albus?" Sirius asked weakly. He too was standing near Harry, but his arms were wrapped rather tightly around Remus. Both men looked uncertain and confused.

"It would seem, Sirius, that you have been cleared of all charges," Dumbledore said gently to the man. "You are once again a free man." His words overwhelmed the two men, and beneath all the cheers from the Weasleys, they just held onto each other for a long moment.

Numb, Harry could only smile faintly at the two of them when they turned and thanked him in unison. He honestly had no idea who was more confused by these turns of events. Things were moving so fast he could not keep up. He found his gaze drifting instead toward the ravens as the bell sounded again.

Everyone was talking all at once -- each speculating about what was happening. More than one person mentioned some child's story, and the king of Wizarding World. Harry only vaguely listened as Hermione explained the list of spells she, Harry and Ron had learned last year.

"But the story says that the King can banish anything!" Ron exclaimed suddenly. "That means Harry can banish You-Know-Who! One spell and he's gone!"

That caught Harry's attention at last and he refocused his mind. The two ravens grew agitated and began cawing loudly, hopping around on the mantle and flapping their large black wings.

"Headmaster," he said softly. Immediately Dumbledore came closer, pulling up a chair so that he could sit down directly in front of Harry. He reached out and took hold of one of his hands, and Harry was grateful for the warmth. "Can I banish him?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes held his, and Harry was intimately aware of the power and wisdom contained within this man. "That demon did not belong to this world, and had no defense against your spell. And yet even still, it fought you and resisted. Voldemort, for all his evil, is still a Wizard, and like it or not, he does belong here. His resistance will be far greater."

He had not answered Harry's question. Even as fuzzy as his thoughts now were he understood that. "Can I banish him?" he asked again.

Something flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. "You understand how powerful you are?" he asked softly.

"I'm beginning to," Harry admitted reluctantly. He did not want to think about the implications of all that power, or the fact that he could do these spells when no one else could.

Dumbledore nodded. "But I don't think you truly understand how powerful Voldemort is," the old man informed him. That was still not an answer but Harry could infer something from it. Voldemort would be able to resist his spell, and Voldemort was at least as powerful as Harry. But still, if there was a chance. . .

It is not time, the ravens cawed urgently. Not time!

"Not time for what?" Harry asked them, glaring hard at the mantle where they were huddled together. "Not time for me to die? That he would kill me if I tried, or that I would succeed but die anyway? Is that what I'm supposed to do? Die to stop him?"

He could hear gasps and cries of protest around him, but it was Dumbledore who pulled his attention back, squeezing his hands tightly between his own. "Harry, who are you talking to?" the old man demanded.

"The ravens," Harry explained, ignoring the look of alarm in Dumbledore's eyes. "They say it is not time. Is that what I'm supposed to do? Die banishing him?"

"No!" Dumbledore shouted, startling him. "I do not believe that! That is not why you exist. You are too important to this world. You have too many things to do. Your power is growing. It is not time. . .for you to face him. Not now, not until you are ready."

"Do you believe that?" Harry asked. "That I still have a place in this world?" He was not certain of that any longer -- certainly did not currently feel fully connected to it. And he feared that once his mind did clear completely, the sheer freakishness of all he'd just done would overwhelm him.

There was a strange gleam in the old man's eyes as he cocked his head to one side as if listening to something far off. "Harry," he asked. "Do you hear the bell?"

Startled, Harry frowned. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw both Sirius and Severus react oddly to that question. He slowly nodded his head. "Yes," he admitted. "What is it?" The ravens had grown calm again.

"That is the Calling, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "I hear it too. So will many Wizards throughout the world this night. It started just after you used the spell on the Pitch. It's summoning us."

"Summoning us where?" Harry asked.

But Dumbledore just shrugged. "I don't know yet. We'll know when it's time. And when we do answer that Call, you'll learn the answer to your own question. You'll learn where your place in this world truly is."

Harry sighed heavily, realizing that this was the only answer he was going to get. And perhaps it was because there was no answer. For all his wisdom, Dumbledore did not know everything.

He found himself looking around the room at the worried faces of all the Weasleys, and at Hermione who had tears in her eyes but was smiling bravely at him. Remus looked calm and resolutely, and there was a fierce contentment in Sirius' eyes as if he knew somehow that things would be okay. And Severus -- he was standing just to the left of Dumbledore, and there was such emotion in his eyes that Harry thought he must be in physical pain. It would be nice, Harry thought, to sit beside him once again and hold his hand.

"I'm tired," he whispered.

Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder. "I imagine you are, my boy," he agreed as he stood up. The old man took a quick look at the others in the room as if weighing his next decision. "Let us move Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny up to my tower. There are too many strangers in the castle at the moment. And Draco, you had best go as well. I've heard rumors that your parents have arrived, and I don't think it would be wise to meet them unescorted. We still don't know the full meaning of today's attack."

His words gave them all something to do and despite Harry's exhaustion he did not protest when Sirius and Severus pulled him to his feet, all but carrying him from the room. He stumbled along between them, not paying much attention to where they were going, only vaguely aware that they were moving upstairs. When he did not think he could go another step, Remus, still impossibly strong, picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. It was testament to his exhaustion that he did not protest the indignity.

Eventually he found himself seated on a long couch in Dumbledore's office. "Charlie," Dumbledore said. "You stay with them. The rest of us are needed elsewhere."

Both Severus and Sirius protested immediately, each once again sitting beside Harry. He tried to remain focused on what Dumbledore was saying. The old man was frowning thoughtfully as if weighing their request.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "The workmen who built the Quidditch stands put all sorts of spells on the structure to prevent them from collapsing due to spell damage. They are nearly impervious to magic. It never occurred to anyone to make them impervious to physical damage. There are still people trapped beneath the section of stands that collapsed, and they're having a hard time using magic to find them. They could use your noses, Sirius and Remus. Apparently the only available rescue dogs belong to the Muggles and are currently involved in some other disaster. And Severus, there are a lot of people injured, and Poppy is running out of potions to give them. She could use your help."

"Go," Harry urged all three of them, knowing they did not want to leave him. They turned toward him uncertainly, but he just shook his head. "All I want to do is sleep," he replied. "There's no point in staying here and watching that. Not when there are people who need you."

Reluctantly they agreed, standing to leave with the others. "Summon that elf of yours to retrieve your potion," Severus ordered him sternly. "Take it before you fall asleep."

But he had no sooner spoken when Dobby appeared beside him, holding the potion in question in his hands. "Dobby is here! Dobby is bringing dear Master Harry's potion! Dobby is a good elf!"

Smiling faintly, Harry took the potion from Dobby's hands. "See," he said softly to Severus as he took off the stopper and swallowed the potion down. "Now, go help everyone," he urged.

Reluctantly, the man nodded and followed the others from the tower as Harry stretched out on the couch. He was vaguely aware of Hermione draping a cloak over his body, and of the faint sound of Fawkes singing in the background. The phoenix song washed over him, blending in with the tolling of that distant bell. Harry drifted away.

-------------

Author's Notes:

I only just finished writing this, so I apologize for the typos. I wanted to get it posted as soon as possible. I can't tell you how many times I have rewritten this chapter. Many of the other versions were so over-the-top they were unbelievable. Hopefully I've toned some of that down without losing the main point of the narrative. This was going to be two chapters, but I couldn't find a good place to break the narrative so I shoved them together.

And yes, in case you were confused by Harry's rather bizarre wandering thoughts, he has taken a bit of a hit to his sanity after his encounter with the mind of the elder demon (and, yes, that was definitely a nod to the H.P. Lovecraft fans out there).

There will be more explanation in the next chapter about the ravens and the spells Harry is using and what it all means. And I'll explain the bell as well, and why only some of the people in the room can hear it.

And as many of you guessed, I had to deal with the Sirius issue immediately -- since he revealed himself in front of the entire world. Who thinks Fudge is going to get drummed out of office?


	61. Chapter 61 The Calling

Chapter 61 - The Calling

Harry was already asleep by the time Hermione finished covering him with the cloak. Since he was still shivering rather violently, she cast a warming charm on the cloak, hoping it would mitigate the worst of his shakes. It was likely his body was in shock, but with all the other people needing serious medical attention he was unlikely to receive anything more valuable than sleep at the moment. Harry had always been resilient. He would recover from this as well.

Hermione crossed the room and sat down beside Ron. One of the house elves had brought up a tray of sandwiches as well as more tea for all them, and Ron handed her a cup prepared just the way she liked it -- milk, no sugar. Nearby Charlie and Draco were cuddled together on a loveseat, and Ginny was sitting on the floor next to them, leaning up against her brother's leg. Like all of them, Ginny felt the need for comfort after all that had happened.

She found herself watching Draco thoughtfully. She wasn't entirely certain what to make of the Slytherin. His unexpected bravery out on the pitch had surprised all of them, and had permanently earned him the approval of the Weasley clan. She'd seen all the Weasleys, Ron included, pat him on the shoulder at some point in the last hour. Draco, for his part, didn't seem to know what to make of the situation either. It was obvious that he was just as bewildered by his behavior, and equally uncertain how to act in the face of such approval. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever received any sort of praise from his parents.

Now he sat huddled next to Charlie, leaning against his side, one of Charlie's arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. He did not seem inclined to move any time in the future, his face pale and thoughtful. But his eyes were sharp and focused, and she couldn't help but wonder what sorts of thoughts were racing through his mind. How would he see these events of this past hour? She herself didn't know what to make of them, and she certainly had a lot more experience in the unexpected, having been friends with Harry for so long.

"Do you think he understands?" Draco asked all of them suddenly, speaking low so as not to disturb Harry. As it was, Hermione suspected that Professor Snape's potion would keep him unaware of the world around him for some time.

"I'm not certain I understand," Charlie admitted.

Draco frowned and glanced over at Ron and Hermione instead. "I suppose this is all normal for the two of you?" he asked.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. On one hand, Draco was right -- but still, this passed even their expectation of things. For once Hermione decided to let Ron answer. She suspected her own understanding of things was badly colored by her Muggle upbringing, and she felt a bit awkward having that displayed so obviously in front of the Slytherin. All of them had talked about a children's story they all collectively knew -- she had never heard of it. She doubted Harry had either.

"I wouldn't say normal," Ron informed the Slytherin. "Discovering that your best friend is. . . well, you know. . .is a bit strange no matter how you look at it."

That your best friend is….Hermione frowned. They meant 'king'. That had been mentioned repeatedly -- even the Aurors had hinted at it. And certainly in that long walk from the Quidditch Pitch to the castle, the total strangers who had tried to touch or kiss Harry had said as much. Then there were the spells -- her analytical, Muggle-raised mind had dismissed any suggestion that those spells she had researched were meant for someone special. When she, Ron and Harry had practiced them, she'd come to the conclusion that Harry had been the only one who could make them work because he was more powerful than the two of them. She had never even entertained the idea that it meant something more than that.

"What is this children's story you were all talking about?" she asked.

They were all more than eager to tell her the tale -- even Draco -- though they each had a slightly different version of the story to tell. Ron insisted that the king in the story was dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor, and Draco insisted he had worn the green and silver of Slytherin. Ginny had pointed out that the story predated the founding of Hogwarts by centuries and couldn't possibly have anything to do with either Gryffindor or Slytherin since the two Wizards in questions hadn't even been born then.

Regardless, they all agreed that the use of the spell, King's Banishment, had revealed the true identity of the Wizard in the story as the true King of the Wizard World. To those Wizard born, the story struck some archetypal belief inside all of them.

"The Wizarding World?" Hermione pressed. "This is a British story, right?"

But Draco shook his head. "No, I've heard the same story in France, Greece, and Spain."

"They tell the same story in Egypt and Romania," Charlie agreed. "Bill said the Egyptian version of the story actually goes back thousands of years. They all have subtle differences to them, but the main points of the story are all the same."

"But the mark that showed up on that scroll -- the white stag and the triple crown -- that's got to be British in origin," Hermione argued.

But Charlie shook his head at that. "The white stag shows up in numerous stories in cultures all over the world. There's a very prominent story of the white stag in Hungary. And Egypt had a triple crown as well as their standard double crown."

"So basically what you're saying is that it isn't just the locals who are going to go crazy over Harry," Hermione sighed, fearing that had been the case. "The rest of the world is going to go just as crazy."

"Poor Professor Snape," Draco remarked unexpectedly.

They all glanced at him in surprise at that. "Snape?" Ron asked bewildered. "Poor Harry you mean."

But Draco just shrugged. "Potter's used to this insanity," he pointed out to them -- Hermione supposed from the Slytherin's perspective that might seem true, even though it was far from reality. Draco didn't know Harry well enough to understand that however. "But Professor Snape is now caught right the middle. I mean Potter was a hot commodity before this happened -- now his value has gone up a thousand fold. Assassins will be lining up to take out Professor Snape."

"Assassins!" the four of them repeated in unison and then immediately glanced guiltily over at the sleeping Harry. He did not stir.

"Assassins?" Ron repeated at a much softer volume. "What in hell are you talking about?"

Draco just looked at them in disbelief as if the answer was obvious. "The chance to marry the Boy Who Lived," he replied. "Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the world right now."

"He's not a bachelor," Hermione pointed out firmly.

Draco nodded in confirmation. "Thus the need for assassins," he explained. "People have killed for far less."

"No one is going to kill Professor Snape," Charlie insisted.

Draco frowned at him. "Are you saying that because you believe in the inherent goodness of people, or because you believe in Professor Snape's ability to defend himself?"

Charlie appeared to think that over for a moment before finally answering, "Both."

Draco just shrugged. "I'll concede one point to you, but not the other."

"The inherent goodness of people?" Ginny asked hopefully from her seat on the floor.

But Draco just shook his head in denial. Trust a Slytherin to read the worst into the situation. The problem was, Hermione suspected, he was probably right. He did seem to have a different understanding of the world than the rest of them did -- and she was beginning to realize that in many cases his view was more accurate. Gryffindors really did tend to live in a world all their own.

They all fell silent again, taking a few moments to eat some of the sandwiches and drink more tea. All of them were tired -- that shielding spell had taken a lot out of them. And now that they had a moment to calm down, Hermione was finding herself thinking too hard about the events out on the pitch. She felt a bit numb when she thought about what she'd seen -- what that creature had done.

"Do you suppose any of the students were killed?" Ginny asked suddenly, echoing thoughts they had likely all wondered. None of them knew the answer to that of course -- they wouldn't know until they left Dumbledore's tower. But at the moment this was the best place for all of them. It was the most secure place in the entire castle, and there would be far too many people trying to get close to Harry.

"There might have been a few injuries," Charlie told her. "But I don't think there would have been any deaths. Their section of the stands wasn't touched."

"I wonder what my father's doing in the castle?" Draco remarked. At the looks they threw him, he just shrugged unapologetically. "I suppose we all assume that this was an attack from You-Know-Who. And yet. . ." he trailed off as if unwilling to finish the statement.

"And yet, none of the children of Death Eaters had been warned to stay away from the Pitch today," Hermione finished for him, guessing the direction his thoughts were going. As far as she knew none of the Slytherin children had been absent.

"My father is angry with me," Draco remarked. "But I'd like to think he'd still try to save me if he could." He sounded remarkably doubtful about that and Charlie hugged him closer. Draco just sighed and rested his head against Charlie's shoulder. "Maybe not," he conceded.

Hermione found herself shuddering at the thought, wondering what it must be like to believe such a thing of your own father. She actually felt sorry for the Slytherin. "Maybe they didn't know," she suggested, barely believing that she actually trying to make excuses for Lucius Malfoy. Surprisingly Ron took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly in approval.

Again they all fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. More than once, Hermione found herself glancing over at Harry, checking to see if he was sleeping soundly. Fawkes had landed on the back of Harry's couch and was still crooning softly to him, and it looked like Professor Snape's potion more than did the trick to keep his nightmares at bay. She couldn't help but think of how vulnerable he looked. He and Ron were the same age, and yet Harry still seemed so much younger physically. He would never have Ron's height or muscular build -- thanks in part she suspected to his upbringing with the Dursleys. And while there were times when his eyes looked positively ancient, she also knew that Harry was still remarkably innocent about a lot of things. Even Ron, who should have seen Harry as an equal, thought of him as a little brother. She was guilty of the same.

A little brother who was about to be forced into the role of King of the Wizarding World, Hermione thought to herself. And all of them had dutifully fallen in line behind him, standing like his knight-protectors when he'd rushed off do what he likely considered his duty. How frustrating it was to keep Harry safe when he was always the first person to run headlong into danger.

"So… Lupin and Black," Draco said unexpectedly into the silence, startling them all. "When did that happen exactly? They're kind of hot!"

They all looked at Draco as if he'd lost his mind -- Charlie had the added look of jealousy glinting in his eyes at the comment. It took a moment for Hermione to realize that while Draco might have heard rumors about the relationship between Remus and Sirius, this was the first time he'd actually seen Sirius Black in person.

"What?" the Slytherin asked with an innocent shrug. "I never get to hear any of the good gossip. You all stop talking whenever the evil Slytherin enters the room."

"You think they're hot?" Charlie demanded.

"Hell, yes," Draco smirked. "I was engaged to Black you know."

"I know," Charlie growled at him. Draco just grinned impishly up at him, seeming utterly unrepentant about his remarks. Charlie glanced at the others as he stood, pulling Draco with him. "Excuse us a moment," he informed them and then pulled the still grinning Draco toward the nearly hidden door behind Dumbledore's desk and up the stairs behind it.

Ginny was giggling behind her hand, and Hermione was hard pressed not to laugh out loud. Poor Charlie, she thought to herself. Draco was impossible! She was actually beginning to like the annoying Slytherin.

Ron on the other hand just buried his face in his hands and groaned in dismay. "Oh, my god! They're totally doing it in Dumbledore's bedroom -- that's just wrong!"

There were days when Hermione wondered how she had managed to fall in love with the only prude in the entire Weasley clan -- okay, Percy was probably just as bad. Still, it was bound to be interesting when Ron finally cracked. She was rather looking forward to it.

-------------------

It was late when Harry awoke from his deep sleep on the couch in Dumbledore's office. The urgent tolling of that bell had grown louder, calling him back to the real world, and he shook of the linger traces of exhaustion and sat up. The windows were all dark, indicating that it was night, and a quick glance around the tower showed Ron and Hermione sleeping curled up on the couch nearest him. Draco and Charlie were sound asleep on another couch, and Ginny was curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the two of them. Even Fawkes was asleep on his perch, his head tucked neatly under one of his wings.

The tolling bell grew louder, and Harry found himself rising to his feet, knowing that he would need to answer that call. He still wasn't entirely certain what it was, but he felt no true sense of danger. Even the compulsion he felt did not alarm him -- it seemed somehow fated.

Moving quietly so that he did not disturb the others, he made his way to the door, slipping through it and down the spiral stairs. He wondered where Severus and the others were -- no doubt they were still helping with the recovery efforts despite the lateness of the hour. He'd been unconscious after the battle last year, but he'd been told that the recovery efforts had continued well into the next day, and that it had been nearly a week before the last of the wounded had been moved to St. Mungo's. This time they also had the destroyed stands to worry about -- let alone all the wounded who would need tending.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he was unsurprised to see Dumbledore approaching him from down the long narrow corridor that led toward the main part of the castle. The old man looked tired, but his eyes twinkled as he approached Harry, seeming unsurprised to see him as well.

"You know where to go?" Dumbledore asked -- it was more a statement than a question, but Harry answered anyway.

"Stonehenge," he replied, though the location surprised him. "I thought you said Wizards from all over the world would be called. Why Stonehenge? Why something so British?"

"You're British, my boy," Dumbledore replied reasonably. "Where else would you be called?"

Harry fell into step beside Dumbledore as they proceeded down the corridor together. "You're excited," he remarked, catching a sense of Dumbledore's energy. Despite his obvious exhaustion, the old man practically vibrated with eagerness.

"This is the stuff of legends, my boy," Dumbledore admitted to him. "It's rather exciting to face something so new at such a time in my life."

"You know what to expect then?" Harry asked. He did not. He only knew that he had to go to Stonehenge -- nothing else seemed clear.

Dumbledore shrugged at that. "You'll meet the others," he said simply. "You'll see all those who were called."

"You know them?" Harry wondered.

"Some of them," Dumbledore nodded. "Many will be members of the International Confederation of Wizards. But there will be new blood in the group as well. And those who are not inclined to join the rest of us -- or any legitimate organization for that matter."

His words stopped Harry cold in his tracks. "Voldemort will be there."

Dumbledore stopped beside him and nodded gravely to him. "Yes, Harry," he agreed. "I imagine he was called as well. The only thing I can promise you is that you will be in no danger -- not tonight. No one will raise a hand against you tonight, not even Voldemort. Remember that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone else says to you, tonight at least there will be no violence."

Only somewhat appeased, Harry nodded and continued walking, Dumbledore beside him. As they descended through the many staircases of Hogwarts, all shadowed now with only the occasional torch to light their path, he noticed numerous house elves lining the corridors, watching him eagerly with their strange eyes. They seemed to be waiting for something -- an order perhaps, or the slightest hint that he might need something. He couldn't help but frown at such odd behavior -- never in all his time at Hogwarts had he seen so many of them anywhere but the kitchens. Normally they did not appear in public, keeping well hidden unless summoned.

Dumbledore chuckled softly and patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, my boy," he assured him. "I was well into my forties before I could see them."

Startled, Harry looked up at the old man. "They're invisible?" he asked, almost dreading the answer.

Dumbledore nodded. "Wait until you start seeing what the ghosts really get up to when they believe no one can see them. I was well into my fifties before I could see through their invisibility -- but I imagine you'll manage before too long."

Harry paled at the thought. It rather alarmed him that Dumbledore was so blithely accepting of such things. He didn't want to be as powerful as Dumbledore -- it scared him. Dumbledore had decades of wisdom to back such power -- Harry had nothing but a rather miserable childhood to guide his decisions. He wished suddenly that he could run down to his room in the dungeon and hide away from the world. The path of destiny stretched out in front of him, and he was terrified to walk it.

Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder again. "We can't escape our destiny, Harry," he said gently. "It's okay to be scared."

"Terrified," Harry corrected. How could he, the orphaned son of James and Lily Potter, whose only desire in life had been to be normal, have come to such a fate? It didn't seem fair, and a part of him wanted to rail at the world for such a burden. Deep in the earth the bell only tolled louder.

Dumbledore led Harry toward a side passage, and out one of the lesser-known castle exits as there were still people all over the castle and Aurors posted at the main gates. Dobby was waiting for them at the side exit, standing huddled against the stonewall of the castle, something dark clasped in his tiny hands. His ears perked up eagerly when he spotted Harry and he thrust the dark object into Harry's hands.

It was his coat, he realized -- the Basilisk coat that Severus had given him. He smiled gratefully at the little house elf as he pulled on the garment, feeling strangely comforted to have Severus' gift around him. "Thank you, Dobby," he told the little creature.

Dobby just tugged at his ears and nodded happily. "Dobby is happy to be serving good Master Harry."

Nodding to Dumbledore, Harry followed the old man down a narrow path toward the lake. Though not full, the moon was bright in the sky, and there were no clouds. Both Wizards could see well enough to follow the path along the lakeshore, moving further away from the castle and outside the main bounds of the wards. Nothing stirred the surface of the lake, even the squid unusually silent this night. Once or twice Harry thought he saw Hedwig's white form flying overhead, and he wondered if his owl would follow them all the way to Stonehenge. He wished Ron and Hermione were with him.

And he couldn't help but wonder what Severus was doing? Would he go to the tower to check on him and worry when he did not find him there? Vaguely he remembered the man holding his hand earlier that day -- and Severus had been there on the Quidditch field protecting him as he always did. He'd feel so much better if the man was there beside him now.

They passed through the wards of Hogwarts and Dumbledore looked expectantly down at Harry, waiting for him. He took a deep breath, uncertain how he'd find the fortitude to proceed. Everything was changing -- had already changed. He felt as if he'd never truly be able to go back to where he belonged, despite Dumbledore's assurance that he still had some place in this world. He wasn't nearly so certain.

But then, he also knew he could not avoid the inevitable. The bell was relentless, tolling louder and louder, and the pull toward Stonehenge was growing stronger by the moment. He belonged there -- or at least the World believed so -- and who was he to defy the very will of the World?

He looked up at Dumbledore and nodded reluctantly. With a crack, they two of them disapparated away, heading across the land, south toward the Salisbury Plains and the ancient circle of stones that called to the king.

-------------------

Author's Note:

I'm going to try to get the next chapter up tonight as well -- so look for it soon.

There's more artwork floating around on the web too!

Aoeiya drew a great image of chibi Remus, Sirius, Harry and Severus. It's incredible cute! Thank you, Aoeiya! (Take out the spaces.) aoeiya . deviantart . com / art / HP-THE-MARRIAGE-STONE-2-67403843

And Rice-Ball47 drew a great picture of Julius Snape (even got the rose and the snake image in there!). I find it very intersting that Julius seems to inspire a lot of art work -- considering he had such a small role. Maybe I'll have to bring him back in for another scene.

rice-ball247 . deviantart . com / art /Julius-Snape-67538149

Thank you to all my reviewers! Along with the nearly 6 thousand reviews, this story has also logged 1.1 million hits which is just shocking to me!


	62. Chapter 62 Stonehenge

Chapter 62 - Stonehenge

During the daytime hours, Stonehenge was typically crowded with tourists from all over the world. But that night the site was empty of Muggles, the vast plains and the enormous grass-covered barrows that dotted the land were silent save for the sound of the wind. There was a highway that ran near the site, but it too was unusually empty, and the few Muggles that drove by in cars never glanced in the direction of the ancient monument. The Muggle parking lot was utterly still and the night watchmen had fallen asleep.

But it was the monument itself that surprised Harry the most. He'd seen photos of Stonehenge, but this looked nothing like he'd been expecting. This was not the ancient ruin depicted in photographs. Just like Hogwarts appeared to be nothing but ruins to Muggles, Stonehenge was the same. But to Harry it was rebuilt, the stones all back in their proper places, unbroken and strong. The thin rope barrier that circled the monument and kept the Muggles from walking across the ancient earthen bank that surrounded the stones was gone, and the ditch that edged the bank was now lined with burning torches in a fiery circle that lit up the stones with flickering lights.

Harry felt immediately drawn toward the enormous heel stone of the circle where there was a break in the earthen bank as if indicating the entrance point to the circle. He took a step toward it, only to notice immediately that Dumbledore had taken a step in the opposite direction. There were other Wizards and Witches arriving, all moving to various positions in the circle. When Harry glanced uncertainly at Dumbledore, the old man just smiled at him. "Go on, my boy," he urged, nodding toward the heel stone. "We must each take the places meant for us."

A sense of melancholy washed over Harry as he realized what Dumbledore meant. He was ultimately alone in this -- his place was different and he would have to proceed alone from this point on. Dumbledore reached out and squeezed his hand. "I don't know what you will learn this night, Harry," he said calmly, his blue eyes unusually bright behind his glasses. "But you are not truly alone. All who love you are always with you. Do not forget that."

Nodding, Harry squeezed the old man's hand before releasing it and turning away. The bell was tolling louder and the circle's entrance was calling to him.

The distance to the heel stone was longer than he'd guessed, the circumference of the outer circle much larger than he'd expected. The main stone circle itself was far smaller. In the flickering torchlight he could see men and women taking up places along the outer circle, standing in the torchlight and staring around in awe as the night wind whipped about them. He couldn't help but wonder what it was he was expected to do here -- Dumbledore believed he would learn something.

As he walked, his eyes were drawn to the large shadow of the barrow on the far side of the Muggle roadway. He found himself shivering as he stared at it, and it occurred to him that while this was a place of power, it was also a place of death. High overhead in the night sky, he saw the black shapes of two ravens circling, and he wondered again how he had come to such a place.

While to the Muggle eye the path up to the heel stone was only a faint depression in the earth, to Harry it was a clearly marked path lined with crushed white stones. The moment he stepped upon it, he felt a shudder of energy move through his body and for an instant he saw brilliant lines of power radiating out in all directions from the center of the great monument, like a burning spider's web upon the earth.

He shivered and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. The air was cool and sweet, the scent of grass and distant rain surrounding him. Overhead the sky was lit brilliantly with stars, no nearby Muggle lights to dim their clarity. The standing stones were shadows in the moonlight, the torchlight dancing upon their surface.

He had dreamed of this, he realized, these lines of power. He could feel them now deep in his bones and he understood that they did not simply crisscross England, but rather circled the earth, connecting all things together. For one brief moment he felt connect to everything, all things past and present, unified in this field of magic. He wondered if this was what he had been meant to learn?

He stood there in the dark moonlit shadow of the heel stone and stared at the stones before him. To his right and to his left, fanning out along the great earthen bank were Wizards and Witches all standing in silence, waiting for him, in a perfect, enormous circle.

Now feeling the power flowing through the earth he sensed something else. The half circle to his right felt far different than the half circle to his left. He wanted to classify the sensations instantly as good and evil -- the men and women to his right were good, and those on the left were evil. He found his eyes searching the flickering torchlight of the left-hand circle. There was something off here. The right-hand circle was nearly filled -- several hundred Wizards and Witches standing waiting for him with only a few broken spots in the circle where someone might be missing. But to his eyes the left-hand circle looked largely empty -- only a few men and women lining the path.

Had they refused to come, Harry wondered. There in the center of that half circle he could sense a shadowy form and he shuddered in realization. Voldemort was here -- already waiting for him. But for some strange reason he had come alone. Were there so few dark wizards in the world that there were none left to hear the call?

And yet that half of the circle did not feel empty -- far from it. It radiated with as much power as the right side did.

Harry frowned in confusion. There was something here he was not understanding. He looked to the right -- so many good Wizards. And yet that did not seem right either -- could he truly classify the power he was sensing from this side as good? Different yes, but was it truly, utterly good? Confusion swirled within his mind.

And then the bell grew silent, the tolling finally stopped and Harry felt the world holding its breath. The calling was over -- those who would come had already arrived. They were waiting for him, and he understood now that he was meant to walk this circle, meant to face each of those who had answered the summons, to judge and be judged.

There was no power on this earth that would make Harry choose the left side first, so he turned immediately to his right and stepped forward, beginning the long journey around the great circle to learn whatever it was he was meant to discover.

He did not know the first man he met -- an old Wizard whose eyes had turned white with blindness. But the moment he stopped in front of him Harry felt the man's power. Strong and ancient, this Wizard was a force to be reckoned with, one of the elite of their world. Despite his blindness he smiled at Harry and told him his name. Harry moved on to the next place in the circle.

One by one Harry greeted the Wizards and Witches that waited for him. After only a few he understood now who had been summoned -- just like the students of Hogwarts were the strongest of their generation in England, these people were the most powerful Wizards and Witches in the world. All of these people were like Dumbledore -- young and old alike -- all radiating a powerful energy that the average Wizard or Witch could not even imagine.

They came from all parts of the world, and more than one barely spoke enough English to tell Harry who they were and where they had come from. And Harry had been right when he'd questioned their inherent goodness -- more than one man or women had a look in their eyes or an air about them that left Harry feeling uneasy or mistrustful. Perhaps it would be best, he thought, to categorize them as Light Wizards -- but Light did not necessarily mean good.

Nor were all of them strangers. He recognized Nicholas Flamel the moment he stopped in front of him -- the ancient man looked just like his picture on his Chocolate Frog Card. Flamel happily shook Harry's hand when he introduced himself. "So sorry about all that trouble with my stone, dear boy," the old man apologized. "If I had known it would cause so much trouble I would have destroyed it centuries ago."

Harry assured him he did not hold a grudge.

Also amongst the group was Mr. Ollivander who gave him a mysterious smile as he said, "Did I not say that we could expect great things from you, Mr. Potter?" He seemed extremely pleased with himself at the confirmation of his statement.

He found himself smiling when he recognized Neville's grandmother Augusta Longbottom in the group, and his estimation of the clumsy Gryffindor went up considerably. It seemed Neville did come from a strong family and might one day grow out of his insecurity. The old woman greeted Harry with a surprisingly approving smile and she nodded her head in satisfaction. "You'll do," she decided and Harry couldn't help but feel grateful for her attitude.

Dumbledore stood in the exact center of the circle, and now that Harry could sense and feel the power levels of these Wizards he understood exactly the place the Headmaster of Hogwarts held in this world. There were none on this side more powerful than the old man, and he felt deep down in his bones than there were likely none as good as the old man as well. He hesitated a moment as he approached him and took a brief glance behind him across the great circle to the far side where the Dark waited. Voldemort stood directly opposite of Dumbledore, his polar opposite in all things. Harry shuddered at the realization.

"He and I are not equals, my boy," Dumbledore told him when he saw the direction his gaze had gone.

"You must be," Harry argued.

But Dumbledore shook his head. "You will understand when you get to that side."

Harry shivered at the thought -- he did not want to cross to that side. It seemed madness to do so -- to place himself directly into Voldemort's path. Even the Wizards and Witches here, the most powerful in the world, were watching that far side warily, nervously. But Dumbledore just smiled reassuringly at him. "Tonight there will be no violence," he reminded him. "The magic that called us all here is ancient and powerful -- it will not allow this place to be desecrated."

Harry nodded reluctantly and began his walk again to finish out the last portion of the Light Circle.

He recognized a few other Wizard and Witches by name only -- surprisingly many of them had Chocolate Cards, and he found it bizarrely amusing to think that something so silly was literally the Who's Who of the Wizarding World.

One Witch in particular caught his eye -- a young girl perhaps no more than fifteen years of age. She was stunningly beautiful, with ebony hair and an exotic, mocha-colored skin not common to Britain. Her eyes were a startling green, several shades lighter than his own, and they lit up with delight when he finally stopped before her. He found his eyes drawn to the heavy ornate collar she wore draped over her shoulders -- it was made of solid gold and inlayed with lapis-lazuli and other precious gems. A large golden ankh hung from it and rested against her chest. He knew a once that this was the current Pharaoh of Egypt, Nitrocris.

She smiled at him and took his hand between her own, holding it briefly. "I have to thank you, Harry Potter," she said, startling him with her words.

"Thank me?" Harry frowned. He knew there was some gossip about the two of them floating around, but he did not know its origins. He had never laid eyes on her. He was certain he would have remembered.

She just gave him a mysterious smile, and he saw that there was something hard and fierce gleaming in her eyes. "I am the rightful Pharaoh of Egypt, but when my father died my uncles took over. They have ruled Egypt, not me. Because I am a woman they told me I was not strong enough to rule our land -- that no one would listen to me." She glanced rather pointedly around the circle at the other Wizards and Witches present. "But I look around now and I do not see any of them. Not one of my uncles or their men were called to this place. Only I was called -- only I had the power to hear this summons. You have shown me my rightful place in this world, and come tomorrow things will change in Egypt. For that you have my gratitude."

With her words it occurred to Harry that his gathering was not entirely about him -- this was not about him learning his place in this world. This was about all of them -- all of them realizing just what position they held in the hierarchy of power, and what responsibilities this placed upon all their shoulders. There were leaders and warlords amongst this gathering, as well as healers and teachers and masters of all the different arts. This single moment in time would likely change all of them -- some subtly, some greatly as it apparently had this young girl.

Nervously Harry moved on, reluctantly approaching the end of the half circle. Taking a deep breath he stepped toward the first member on the Dark half and found himself staring into red eyes of a Vampire. Harry tensed in shock, his body poised for fight or flight. When the man smiled slowly at him, he saw the tell-tale fangs behind his lips.

"I cannot help but wonder if the change that is coming will aid or destroy my people," the creature said.

"Change?" Harry frowned. The Vampire made no move to attack him, and while he could sense that the man's power was far different than anything he was used to, he did not feel unduly threatened.

"An event such as this suggests that a great change is coming -- one that will literally reshape the world as we know it," the Vampire replied. "Some say this event heralds in the end of the world -- or perhaps the beginning." He glanced briefly toward the dark shadow that waited at the center of this half circle. "I have tried hard to keep my people out of the coming conflict, but perhaps I can no longer remain neutral."

Shock shuddered through Harry's body when he realized the implication behind this dark creature's words. This was a vampire -- evil by all the stories he had ever been told. And he had just informed Harry that as of now he was still neutral in this conflict, as were his people."

"Whose side will you join?" Harry asked.

The Vampire's red eyes flashed in the torchlight. "I suppose that will depend on what each side asks of us."

There was more implied in those words, and Harry made a decision that he hoped was the right one -- without anyone to guide him he could only go on his instincts. "I will ask nothing of you that you will not freely give." He knew his offer was more than what Voldemort would ever grant the man.

The Vampire inclined his head. "I will keep that in mind, Harry Potter."

Anxiously Harry moved on. The place next to the Vampire was empty, and yet as he paused in front of it, he realized that there was something there, a presence, a power, and yet no man or woman filled the place. He was right -- it was not empty, but rather simply not occupied. There was something holding this power here in the world -- something using this energy. He had sensed something similar with the few empty spots on the other side of the circle.

He moved on and found himself standing face to face with his godfather. Sirius Black smiled at him.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, feeling momentarily as if his thoughts had derailed.

Sirius shrugged almost sheepishly. "I heard the bell earlier when Dumbledore mentioned it, but I didn't know what it meant. And I'm not entirely certain what I'm doing over here on this side." He glanced warily toward the shadow waiting in the center, and his eyes darkened with anger. "That's him, isn't it?" he asked. "He murdered James and Lily."

He turned his attention back to Harry and something haunted entered his blue eyes. For a moment he looked so much like the man Harry had first met in third year -- broken and drained from so many years in Azkaban.

"What am I doing on this side, Harry?" he whispered, and Harry could hear fear in the man's voice.

Harry immediately reached out and took hold of his godfather's cold hands. He could feel the power flowing through him -- Sirius had always been strong, so strong. And he had only grown stronger over these last few years as he recovered from the devastation of his imprisonment. He could feel too that the bond he had formed with Remus had strengthened his magic further. But he also understood now what Draco had meant when he'd said that the Blacks were a Dark family. The magic on the other side of the circle was Intellect and Order -- the magic on this side was Emotion and Chaos. Neither good nor evil -- but if anyone embodied emotion and chaos it was his godfather.

"There is no evil inside you, Sirius," Harry assured him, smiling at him. "Don't think for one moment that there is no evil on that side. I saw plenty. I'm glad to find out that it is well balanced by good on this side."

Sirius smiled hesitantly at that. "Well, on a good note, I guess we should be happy there are so few people on this side."

Harry nodded and glanced uncertainly at all the empty spots. They were not occupied -- but not empty. He remained silent however.

Sirius caught his hand before he could move on. "Be careful," he warned, shooting another look toward the Dark Lord who waited in the middle. He did not however make any attempt to stop Harry from continuing.

The next spot was empty, as was the one after that and the one after that. Harry found himself more and more confused as he felt the pulsating waves of power coming from each area. They should not be empty -- someone out in the world held these places, powerful men and women, and he could not account for their absences.

When he stopped again before yet another empty spot a wave of recognition washed over him, and with it came a new horror. He knew this energy -- knew it all too well. He stared at the empty stop on the ground where Lucius Malfoy should be standing, and though the man was not present he could feel his magical signature as clearly as if he were standing there in front of him.

As realization began to wash over him, he moved swiftly to the next spot, and then the next -- he recognized this signature as well. Bellatrix Lestrange should hold this place. The Black family it seemed had produced two people powerful enough to stand amongst the elite, and he knew there could be only one explanation for why Sirius was present and Bellatrix was not.

Sirius did not bear the Dark Mark.

"No," he whispered, terrified of what he would find, knowing it was inevitable. He took one step closer to the halfway point of the circle and wanted to scream in protest when he recognized this next signature as well. He knew this one so intimately -- had grown nearly addicted to its sensation. Severus Snape should be standing here, counted amongst these numbers, but the Dark Mark he bore upon his arm denied him entrance.

His eyes moved toward the shadow standing waiting for him -- Voldemort was hooded and cloaked, his features completely hidden from sight, but Harry could feel the amusement rolling off the man. These spots were not empty -- Death Eaters held each of these positions. And because all of them were bound by the Dark Mark, Voldemort held all their power in his control -- even the Death Eater who had turned traitor and married his enemy.

Most of this side of the circle was empty -- only a few spots held by actual men and women who had not for whatever reason been bound to the Mark. But the majority of the power of this entire side of the circle was held entirely by Lord Voldemort. Those few empty spots on the other side had to be Death Eaters as well.

'We are not equals,' Dumbledore had told him. He had not meant he was superior to Voldemort in any way -- he had been trying to warn Harry about how terribly skewed the balance of power truly was. This Dark Lord single-handedly held the collective power of nearly half of the most powerful men and women in the world. What hope did any of them, even united together, ever have of defeating him?

He stood there for a long moment at the place that should have been occupied by his bondmate -- would Severus know what was happening, he wondered. Would he have been able to hear the bell, and yet been prevented from answering the call? Had he known all those years ago when he attempted to right a wrong committed by his father what it was he'd been sacrificing when he'd taken that Mark? For that matter had any of the Death Eaters known? He could not imagine someone like Lucius Malfoy ever passing up the opportunity to take his rightful place in this circle.

Knowing now that there was no point in avoiding the final confrontation, Harry moved forward. He understood now what it was he'd been meant to learn, but how it could possibly help him, he didn't know. If anything it only seemed to confirm to him how utterly out-classed he was, and what little hope he had of winning.

There in the shadows of Stonehenge he stopped in front of Lord Voldemort to confront his enemy. For once his scar did not burn in the man's presence. Despite the danger, he felt strangely calm as if his body had gone numb from all the shocks he had experienced.

"Hello, Tom," he said simply, refusing to use the self-titled name the man had invented for himself.

"Hello, Harry," Voldemort replied, and he heard a hissing laugher emanating from beneath that hood. He could not see the man's face, but suspected he should count that a blessing. "I see you understand at last what place I hold in this world."

Harry shuddered. "What you have done is wrong -- an abomination. It's unnatural." Dark or not, evil or not, the absent Wizard and Witches belonged in this circle, and keeping them from it went against the most ancient of magicks.

"What I have done will bring peace to this world," Voldemort informed him. "When I am done, there will be no more war, no more conflict. I will rule and all will be as it was meant to be. An eternal, immortal paradise."

Harry shook his head. "You're not capable of peace," he informed him. "What you did today -- that creature---"

"A necessary evil," Voldemort shrugged. "And those deaths were inconsequential. My plan is already in motion and you cannot stop it."

It confirmed to Harry what he already suspected -- that creature that had appeared today in the Quidditch pitch had not been part of some great attack. The violence they had all endured had been nothing more than an afterthought. There was something else going on -- some other terrible deed that Voldemort was planning, and that incident today had been nothing more than a small piece of it.

"Will they give you another title, do you think?" Voldemort asked suddenly. "Another ridiculous name -- King Harry, perhaps? Do you think they will crown you, give you a throne? Do you know what the other side tends to do with their kings, Harry? They sacrifice them. You stand here, the last of a long line of kings before you dating back to the dawn of civilization. And one after the other was sacrificed -- to stop a war or a drought or a famine or a flood. For some reason they seem to think that killing their king will bring them something great."

Despite everything Harry found himself shaking in fear, for he had the strangest feeling that Voldemort was not lying.

"They burn them alive, Harry," Voldemort continued. "Or they take them there to that stone table and cut out their hearts." He pointed toward a large flat rock in the center of the ring of stones. "Or perhaps they will go the more traditional route and simply hang you from a tree."

Just like the lines of power upon the ground were familiar to Harry, so too was this image. He had hung from that tree already in his dreams -- had seen this image over and over again. Was that all his future held, some sacrificial death that he could not avoid? Or was Voldemort merely stealing the nightmares from his mind and using them against him?

"You won't win," he whispered, refusing to give in to his fear.

Voldemort laughed at that. "Oh, but I will Harry," he assured him. "You see I have a learned a secret, a terrible, brilliant secret. And with it I will end this war -- and neither you, nor Dumbledore, nor your little band of merry men can stop me."

But Harry shook his head. "I will stop you, Tom," he promised. "Even if I have to. . ."

"Have to die?" Voldemort finished for him. The shadowy creature laughed again. "But don't you realize, Harry, you're already dead. You just haven't stopped bleeding yet."

Harry backed away from him, unwilling to listen to any more. He couldn't face this, couldn't accept this. He didn't want to die, but he would do what ever it took to save those he loved. But he wanted some assurance that he would succeed, that any sacrifice he might make would be successfully. How could he accept the possibility that he might lose and doom all those he loved, doom the world, to the madness of this creature?

It took him no time at all to finish the rest of the circle -- there were few places that were occupied on the last quarter of the ring, only one or two angry men and women who had not yet chosen a side. One Witch, who while not intrinsically evil, confessed to him that up until several months ago Voldemort had been actively recruiting her. But then for some reason had lost all interest and left her alone. Harry knew that whatever secret it was that Voldemort had discovered, it had made him believe he no longer needed anyone else's aid. Whatever power requirements he needed, he had already acquired.

The moment Harry completed the circle and stopped again on the heel stone path, the compulsion that kept them all there in that place lifted immediately. Instantly Wizards and Witches broke ranks and swarmed toward him -- he recognized Dumbledore and Sirius in the mix and realized it was a select group of people coming to protect him. They surrounded him on all sides, wands drawn and held ready. He was touched to see Augusta Longbottom, Ollivander and Nicolas Flamel in the group.

But on the far side of the circle Voldemort only laughed and backed away, disapparating almost immediately and leaving them in peace. Harry knew he had no interest in a confrontation. Whatever secret he held, he had total faith in it and did not feel the need to alter his plans.

"Get him back to Hogwarts, Albus," Nicolas Flamel urged, and the others all echoed his words. Harry felt Sirius wrap his arms around him, holding him tightly against him and he was grateful for his godfather's support. He dreaded the questions he would soon face.

"Come on, Harry," Dumbledore urged, and he and Sirius apparated him back to the castle where he hoped that for a little while at least he could find some rest.

-------------

Author's Note:

Sorry there isn't any Severus in these last few chapters. He'll be back in the next chapter as Harry finds out what Severus experienced when he realized the Dark Mark prevented him from answering the call (this was hinted at by Alrik and Brand in the Winter Lands). It's a rather intense scene that plays out between the two of them so I'm taking some time to get it right. And yes, you will get to find out what Lucius' reaction was as well.

Regarding Stonehenge:

I've been there a couple of times, but I'm mostly pulling from my rather faulty recollection of the layout -- and obviously no one has ever seen it fully rebuilt. It's been through numerous incarnations over the many thousands of years it has stood there -- the earthen bank that surrounds it is probably from a much earlier time period than the stones. Most archeologists believe it was probably of religious significance, was definitely of astronomical significance, and may have been a place of burial or sacrifice as well. My use of it was more of a nod toward the King Arthur legends that say it was built by Merlin.

Regarding King Harry:

When I first started reading Harry Potter, I honestly thought that this was what J.K. Rowlings was going to do with the story. The King Arthur legends say that one day Arthur would return when the land was once again in need. I always figured that Harry would take up this role -- but when I realized that she was not going to go this route, I decided to give it a try myself.

Some people take this too literally. Harry is not a descendent of King Arthur (or if he is, there's no way to prove it). Harry is not the reincarnation of King Arthur -- he isn't suddenly going to remember the round table and fighting Mordred on the field of Camlann. He isn't going to pull Excalibur from a stone or discover Avalon. And he certainly is not going to suddenly decide to change his name. I have no intention of spelling things out so literally --- rather Harry and many of the others are filling archetypal roles based on the legends. (All the main characters represent someone legendary -- which is why I really thought this was where J.K. Rowlings was heading.)

As I mentioned before, I am pulling heavily from Celtic, Scandinavian, Norse (and obviously Arthurian) legends. Those of you who know your mythology already understand who the ravens are (also not literally ravens, but rather spiritual guides that represent the knowledge that seems inherent in the role Harry is being forced to step into). They are Harry's divine guidance (and no, I'm not referencing any specific religion or god either -- Harry isn't going to suddenly start worshiping Odin). They may in fact be nothing more than Harry's magic manifesting in a way he can understand.

Harry, as I said, is stuck in this archetypal position that means something different to each group of people who see him. To the native Britons, he's Arthur returned, the Once and Future King. To the Winter Lands, he's Beowulf who defeated Grendel. I suspect to a certain pharaoh, he is the sun god who enlightened her, or perhaps Osiris who died and rose from the dead. But ultimately, he is still just Harry -- a boy who can't figure out what to do with his bondmate, and wishes the press would just leave him alone.

BTW -- did anyone notice that not one of the Ministry candidates was called to the circle?

Why wasn't Remus called:

I thought about it -- but ultimately decided against it. Remus is without a doubt 'one' of the most powerful Wizards around. He's just not quite as powerful as some of the others. Notice I also did not include McGonagall and Flitwick and they are undoubtedly extremely powerful as well.

I preferred the idea that a great deal of Remus' magical strength came not from his own magic but from the bond he's formed with Sirius -- just like Voldemort is using the Dark Mark to steal his Death Eaters' magic, Sirius and Remus can use each other's magic because of their connection. The Weasleys belong in this category too -- their strength is not individual, but rather in their devotion to one another.

Regarding the Secret:

There are a bunch of hints laid out throughout this story about what this big secret of Voldemort's is. I should probably warn you -- it's big, it's nasty and will dramatically change Harry's world. It's also going to be coming up pretty soon, so you won't have too long to wait. Keep in mind however that this story ultimately started out as a love story -- and despite the plot I have no intention of abandoning that theme. After all, love (at least in Harry's opinion) is what makes the world go round.


	63. Chapter 63 The Heart that Bleeds

Chapter 63 - The Heart that Bleeds

They returned to the castle the same way they had left it, following the hidden trail along the lake to the side entrance where Dobby had been waiting for them. This time Remus was standing guard at that hidden door, staring out into the darkness anxiously as he searched for signs of movement. When he spied the three of them making their way up the path, he rushed forward to greet them.

Sirius ran forward to meet Remus, pulling him into a crushing embrace, and from his vantage point behind them, Harry could see how exhausted the werewolf looked. He imagined the man had been worried when Sirius had left to answer the Call. He couldn't help but wonder where Severus was -- would he know what had happened this night? It bothered him that he was not there to greet them.

A few moments later Remus pulled Harry into a tight hug as well, saying nothing beyond a simple, "Welcome home." Smiling thankfully Harry followed all of them into the castle, relieved to once again be back on familiar ground.

"I'll walk you down to your rooms, Harry," Dumbledore said once they were safely behind the walls of Hogwarts and the side door was sealed. "I think any discussion can wait until morning. We all need to sleep. I suspect these next few days will be trying for all of us."

Gratefully beyond words, Harry just nodded. He was utterly drained. At the moment he felt as if he could sleep for a week. Despite everything that had happened, his mind felt like it was shutting off -- as if he'd passed the point where he could truly think any more.

Promising to see him in the morning, Sirius and Remus headed off toward their own rooms while Harry and Dumbledore made their way down a back stairs toward the dungeons. Dumbledore left him at his own door with nothing more than a gentle squeeze to his shoulder -- the old man looked exhausted as well. By the time Harry had entered his room and closed the door behind him, he thought about simply collapsing on the couch in front of the fire. The bed seemed too far away.

Sighing, he pulled off his coat and draped it over the back of the couch -- no doubt the house elves would hang it up for him before he had a chance to do so. The fire was lit, warming the place, and there were a few candles here and there indicating that Severus had been here earlier. He wondered where he was now -- perhaps he was still brewing potions for the infirmary?

Pushing open the door to their bedroom, he found himself freezing in shock at the sight before him. "Severus," he whispered in horror.

Severus Snape was sitting on the floor in the center of their bedroom. He was stripped down to nothing more than his trousers, even his feet bare on the cold stone floor. But it was the nasty looking dagger he was holding to his arm that held all of Harry's attention. He could see the silver strands of metal that were still wrapped around the Dark Mark upon his forearm where Dumbledore had bound it so many months ago; Severus was trying to pry the dagger beneath those metal strands to cut out the Dark Mark. Blood was welling from beneath the metal wards, dripping down his arm to pool on the stone floor. There was a wild, manic look in his eyes as he cut away at his flesh, trying to stab at the heart of the Mark beneath the wards; he was gasping in pain alternately sobbing and cursing as he fought to free himself from an impossible bond.

Harry's shock gave way instantly to panic and he rushed forward. "Severus!" he shouted, grabbing hold of the dagger and yanking it from the man's hand. He flung it across the room so that it clattered against the far wall, spraying blood as it flew. He tried to press his hands over the wound to stanch the flow of blood. There was so much blood!

"Harry!" Severus cried, grabbing hold of his arms, seeming not to notice the blood he was losing or Harry's desperate attempt to stop it. "I can't get it off, Harry! It won't come off!" There was only madness in those dark eyes, and Harry found himself sobbing in panic as he tried to wrestle against his grip to stop the blood.

"Dobby!" he shouted over Severus' frantic pleas for Harry to help him cut away the Mark. Instantly the little house elf appeared, gasping in horror when he saw what was happening. "Get me some Dittany, quickly! There should be some in his lab." He had little skill at healing charms and could only hope that Severus' own potions would close up his wound. He'd learned first hand when he'd been shot by those arrows that if the dagger was magically enchanted in someway, the potion might be useless.

Severus was trying to reach the dagger again, and Harry struggled to hold him in place so that he could not crawl across the floor to where the blade was laying. When he realized that Harry was not going to let him go, he simply summoned the blade to his hand with an impressive display of wandless magic. Harry grabbed hold of the man's wrist, holding the dagger away from his body, his other hand still pressed over the bleeding wound. He knew he was not strong enough to win a physical confrontation with the older man. Already his muscles were shaking with the strain of trying to keep that dagger away from his body.

"Severus!" he shouted, trying to catch the man's attention. "Severus, please listen to me!"

"I have to cut it off, Harry!" Severus protested in despair, and Harry suspected that had he come a moment later the man might have succeeded in hacking off his entire arm. "I have to get rid of it! It's the only way to reach you! I have to go -- the bell is calling me! I have to find you!"

"Severus, I'm right here!" Harry pleaded with him. "Look at me, Severus. I'm right here. The bell is silent -- listen Severus! Listen! The bell is silent!"

For a moment Severus froze, a panicked, horrified look on his face as if he could not accept what Harry was telling him, or did not truly comprehend it. In that instant, Dobby reappeared, bearing the potion Harry had asked for, and upon seeing the two of them wrestling for control of the dagger, snapped his fingers and banished the blade from the room entirely.

"The bell, Harry!" Severus' voice sounded broken as if he'd been screaming.

But Harry just shook his head. "It's silent, Severus. It's silent. Listen -- it's silent."

It seemed as if something in his words reached him for the man turned his gaze inward as if trying to focus on something just out of his grasp. It gave Harry a moment to reach for the potion Dobby was holding out for him. Gripping Severus' wrist tightly in one hand, he poured the potion directly onto the wound, praying that the warding bands that protected Severus from the pain of the Mark would not interfere with the healing power of the potion. A pale green smoke rose up from the open wound, the blood frothing as the wound began to close -- but it closed so slowly. Harry was certain it should be closing faster than that.

"Harry?" Severus sounded so lost but at least he was no longer actively fighting him. "I tried to reach you. I tried to follow you."

"I know Severus," Harry nodded, wanting to sooth the desperation he saw in the man's face.

"It's inside of me!" Severus hissed in horror, that frantic madness welling again in his eyes. "It's inside -- wrapped around my heart, choking me, squeezing me! I tried to follow but I couldn't breathe, couldn't think!"

Harry touched his face, stroking back his dark hair. "It's over now," he whispered, something inside him breaking at the sight of the pain in the man's eyes. "Everything is alright now. Everything is going to be fine."

But Severus shook his head almost violently, his eyes burning with desperation. "They're going to take you away from me," he accused, his voice breaking. "They're going to take you away from me! They'll say we're not real! That we're a lie! I'm supposed to protect you -- I can't let them take you away!"

Before Harry could form a coherent response, Severus had tugged him sharply forward so that he all but fell against the man's bare chest, and then he was being kissed with the same desperation Severus had been cutting at his arm. The man plundered his mouth, leaving him breathless and stunned. Arms wrapped like vices around his body and with a violent twist he found himself pressed to the floor, Severus on top of him, causing him to whimper in stunned disbelief as the man pressed his hips against him, grinding himself against Harry's rapidly interested body.

Severus, hands still stained with blood, tugged at his clothes, reaching up underneath his shirt to run his hands possessively up his chest. Harry gasped in shock when sharp bursts of pleasure burned through his body as those long fingers stroked over his hardened nipples -- it never occurred to him that a male body could respond to such a touch, never knew his own body could feel such a sensation -- like electricity sizzling through his veins. He wanted to shout in disbelief, or cry out in pleasure but Severus' mouth swallowed the sounds he made, his tongue stroking deeply, fiercely as if trying to possess him.

Terrified and excited and confused beyond comprehension, Harry couldn't stop his body from responding, any more than he could still the frantic pounding of his heart, or the dozen different voices in his head telling him a thousand different ways to react.

Nor could he stop the realization that desperate or not, aroused or not, Severus' entire body was shaking, as if the man was rapidly going into shock despite his aggressive attack. And beyond the physical sensations, he could feel Severus' magic, strong and wild, but utterly chaotic as if completely out of control. When he tore his mouth away to catch his breath, Harry saw that he'd rolled into the pool of blood which was quickly soaking into his clothes. Half his mind shuddered in horror at the realization while the other half was swamped with pleasure at the way Severus' mouth felt against his neck, teeth scraping his flesh. Dear gods, how had he not known that his earlobe was so sensitive! But no--the blood! Severus was hurt, in danger!

He waved his hand frantically at Dobby who was still standing nearby, pulling at his ears in panic. But the motion was enough for Dobby to react -- he snapped his fingers and Severus was knocked away from Harry, momentarily stunned as he lay flat on his back on the floor of their bedroom.

"My potion," Harry hissed urgently to the little house elf as he scrambled to his knees so that he could lean over Severus to see if he was all right. The man's face was white as a sheet, from blood loss and shock, and his eyes were glazed as if he'd retreated somewhere into his own thoughts. His body was shaking violently as if wracked with cold despite the fact that it was warm in the room.

Dobby grabbed one of the small vials of Dreamless Sleep from Harry's nightstand and handed it to him. Moving behind him, Harry careful pulled Severus partially upright, holding him in his arms so that he rested against his chest. Yanking out the potion stopper with his teeth, he pressed the vial against Severus' pale lips.

"Drink, Severus," he whispered into the man's ear. "Please!" He saw Severus swallow convulsively, drinking down the potion without further prompting. Harry stroked his hair back from his face trying to offer some comfort.

"Harry," Severus whispered, turning his head to the side. With his back resting against Harry's chest, his body had grown limp and unresponsive. "They're going to take you from me."

"No," Harry promised him. "I promise, Severus. I promise!" Drawn like a moth to flame, craving contact, craving a connection, Harry found himself gently kissing the man's face. He kissed his faintly stubbled cheek, and then the bridge of that too crooked nose, before touching his lips to Severus' mouth. He was frightened at how cold the man's lips now felt -- only moments before they had been so hot and demanding. Now it seemed as if the life had utterly drained from his body.

For a moment those dark eyes flicked upward, meeting his own gaze. "I have to find you, Harry," Severus whispered.

"I'm right here!" Harry cried, but Severus' eyes drifted shut in sleep and he didn't think the man had heard him.

For a long moment Harry just sat there, holding Severus against his body, his arms locked tightly around his bare chest. He ran one hand down Severus' arm to the coils of silver wire, trying to inspect the wound beneath the ward. He could see the Dark Mark beneath those wires, looking raw and swollen -- the wound had mostly closed, though there were several areas that still oozed blood. But he was certain he'd healed the worst of it -- there was only the blood loss to contend with -- and the madness.

He looked down at the blood now smeared across the floor and tried to judge the amount -- was it enough to put his life in danger? He didn't know enough about healing to judge -- and yet he was hesitant to send for Madame Pomfrey, assuming she was even available with the other wounded in the castle. Somehow he doubted Severus would want anyone to see him like this.

"Dobby is getting a blood replenishing potion," the little elf announced and vanished again. He reappeared a moment later with another glass vial labeled with Severus' neat printing.

Surprisingly Harry trusted the elf's judgment better than he trusted his own -- and in any event he knew from potions class that the potion would not hurt Severus if he did not need it. It took some doing but he managed to get one or two swallows down the man's throat. While he did so, Dobby set about cleaning up the blood. Between the two of them they managed to get a bandage pressed between Severus' damaged skin and the silver coils of metal around his arm -- never had Harry been more grateful for the little elf's aid.

Exhausted, Harry tried to get Severus off the floor and into bed. He finally had to pull out his wand and levitate the man up. He took a few moments to Scourgify the blood from both of their bodies before stripping down to his under shorts and climbing into bed beside Severus. He pulled the covers up around both of them, worried about the coldness of Severus' skin. Pressing his fingers against the man's throat he felt for the pulse -- it was strong, already slowing down as the Dreamless Sleep Draught calmed him.

He found himself running his fingers slowly across Severus' chest, tracing the scars that lined his body. So many scars -- and all from past events that he knew nothing about. They spoke of a life of pain and hardship -- and the muscles beneath those scars spoke of strength and the determination to overcome whatever life threw at him. Severus would overcome this too, he told himself -- no matter what this madness was that had gripped him, Severus would survive it. He had to. Harry couldn't imagine any other possibility.

He leaned down and gently kissed the man's chest, directly over his beating heart. Then he laid his head against that spot, and wrapped his arms around Severus. He could hear the slow steady beating of Severus heart beneath his ear.

"Severus," Harry whispered, but the man did not answer. Harry closed his eyes and ignored the slow leak of tears that slipped from between his lashes.

--------------------------

When Severus awoke the following morning, shaking off the linger effects of Dreamless Sleep -- he couldn't remember taking the potion -- he found himself wrapped around Harry. It took him only a moment to realize that they both felt naked -- Harry's chest was certainly bare. But no -- he was still wearing -- Severus frowned, his trousers? Why was he wearing his trousers to bed? And where were the Muggle-style pajamas that Harry seemed to favor?

And then he remembered the events of last night, and the blood in his veins ran cold in shock.

His eyes moved instantly to his forearm and the silver bands wrapped around the Dark Mark. He could see a bandage beneath the bands and he remembered far too clearly cutting away at his own flesh. Oh, god! Harry had found him like that -- after everything else Harry had been through that day, he had to return home to find Severus sitting in a pool of blood attempting to cut off his own arm.

Horrified, Severus carefully extracted himself from his tangled position around Harry, moving carefully and cautiously out of the bed without disturbing the sleeping the boy. Silently he moved across the room and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door and sealing it up with a silencing charm. He found himself staring into his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. The man staring back at him looked almost like a stranger.

In his lifetime, Severus had experienced many forms of pain -- from the common injuries endured in the sword duels he'd fought, to the extremes of the Cruciatus. But even under the blind, mind-rending agony of the Cruciatus Curse, Severus had never really felt himself in danger of losing his mind. Somehow he'd always been able to separate his emotions and thoughts from the physical sensations tearing through his body.

But last night, for the first time in his life, he truly believed he had gone mad. At first it had been the bell ringing -- growing louder and louder until he thought it might deafen him. But when the pull came -- the Calling -- and he'd realized that he would not be able to answer it, he thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. He'd known immediately what was wrong -- could feel the Dark Lord inside his mind, wrapped around his soul, draining his magic. He'd fought it -- tried desperately to reach beyond that horrible grip -- tried to access the part of his soul that the bell was Calling to. It was like being born all over again -- only to realize at the last minute that he was not going to be able to attend his own birth.

Nothing he did could push past that grip that held him -- he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think. His magic, which had always been so strong, failed him utterly. But beyond the sheer wrongness of the situation, beyond the pain of being denied what was his, came the panic when he realized that Harry would be there. Harry would be summoned to this place and Severus could not reach him. Severus could not protect him.

The idea to cut the Mark from his body seemed perfectly logical at the time -- and by then he was beyond feeling simple pains like torn flesh. When he could not cut the wires binding the Mark, he'd shoved the blade underneath them. When he could not easily carve out the Mark, he though about simply shaving all the flesh right off his bone. An ax or a saw would probably have been better -- he could just cut off his forearm entirely -- he'd been desperate.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut in horror. Harry had walked in on that -- he remembered fighting with Harry for control of the knife. Had he hurt him? He couldn't recall cutting him. But he could have done so accidentally so easily.

His eyes flew open in shock -- he'd attacked Harry. He wasn't certain of the sequence of events, but he distinctly remembered attacking him -- kissing him, forcing him to the ground, tearing at his clothing. Was that why he was nearly naked in their bed? Had he raped him? He barely made it to the toilet in time as nausea rose within him and he threw up what little he had in his stomach.

It took several minutes for his stomach to settle, and he sat on the cold floor of the bathroom, shaking in reaction while he tried to piece together the sequence of events. Someone else had been there in the room -- Harry hadn't been alone. Someone had helped him -- someone had stopped Severus.

"Dobby!" he called out, and instantly the little elf appeared in front of him. Surprisingly the creature was holding a small potion vial in his hand. He recognized the label as one of his own.

"Master Severus should drink this, Dobby is thinking," the little elf urged, holding out the potion to him.

Confused by the behavior -- elves were not known to prescribe potions for wizards without being prompted -- Severus took the bottle. It was a Calming Draught, something he knew he desperately needed. He pulled out the stopper and drank it down. Then he stared hard at the little elf. "Did I hurt him?" he asked. Dobby was one of Lucius Malfoy's former house elves -- he would know all there was to know about how a man could hurt another.

But Dobby shook his head, ears raised as he faced Severus. "Dobby is not letting you hurt Master Harry," he answered. "Dobby is helping Master Harry with bringing the Dittany and banishing the nasty knives. Dobby is knowing what to do."

Relief washed through him. He hadn't hurt him -- frightened him perhaps, but Dobby had stopped him from hurting him. "Thank you, Dobby," he whispered, never before so grateful to an elf. He pulled himself carefully to his feet. "Bring me my clothes," he ordered and the elf nodded and vanished.

Stripping out of his trousers he climbed into the shower. He could tell that he'd been cleaned with a Scourgify Charm -- they were good in a pinch but left his skin feeling itchy and dry. The water soaked immediately into the bandage on his arm, and he pried it loose from his skin. The Dittany had healed his knife wounds -- ten point to Gryffindor for remembering such a thing. But the Mark still looked angry and swollen and the sight sickened Severus.

Voldemort still owned him. It didn't matter where his loyalty lay, didn't matter whose side he fought on -- Voldemort still held full claim to his power, and all this time he hadn't a clue. None of them had.

He could not imagine there was a Wizard or Witch anywhere in the world who would have taken the Mark if they had truly known what it meant. It was supposed to be a means of communication -- a way for Voldemort to contact his followers, and a way for all them to tune their magic together so that they would be capable of tandem spells. But this went so far beyond that -- it gave Voldemort complete access to all their power -- without their consent. And there wasn't a damned thing they could do about it. Even with his Mark warded by Dumbledore so that Voldemort could not torture him through it, his power was still controlled by the Dark Lord. When the time came and Voldemort fought Harry, Severus' own magic would be used against his bondmate. The very thought was unbearable.

Dobby left his clothes sitting on the bathroom counter. Severus dressed in silence before exiting the bathroom, taking down the silencing charm. Across the room he could still see Harry sleeping soundly in bed, still insensate to the world. Severus exited the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. A quick wave of his wand built up the fire in his fireplace -- it wasn't cold, but he wanted the familiar light. Despite the Calming Draught he still felt unsettled, and he found himself pacing back and forth in front of the fire as he replayed the events of yesterday over and over again in his head. Gods, he thought, what was he going to say to Harry? How could he possibly apologize? How could things have spiraled out of control so quickly?

He tried to reconstruct the events of last night -- everything was still so fuzzy. What had he said to Harry? He remembered yelling -- he remembered trying to explain ... something ... to him. But the details were all gone. Had Harry fought him when he'd attacked him? He remembered blood on his hands -- on Harry's hands. For eight months he'd worked hard to build trust between the two of them -- to try and give Harry a home that he could feel safe in, welcomed in -- and in one minute he'd destroyed all that. And at the worst possible time imaginable -- when the whole world was literally pounding at Harry's door, demanding a piece of him.

A loud thump from the bedroom startled him and he turned swiftly around in alarm. The bedroom door flew open, and Harry came running from the room, shouting his name in a panic. The look of terror in those green eyes froze Severus in place.

Seeing him standing there, Harry skidded to a stop, staring at him as if in a daze, one hand coming to rest against his own chest as if to still his pounding heart. Severus couldn't help the utterly inappropriate voice in his head that pointed out that Harry was nearly naked -- and dear god the young man was beautiful!

"Are you all right?"

It took Severus a moment to realize that Harry had asked the question -- shouldn't he have been the one asking such a thing? Harry was worried about him? He mentally shook himself -- wanting to give himself a good swift kick in the head. Of course he was worried -- he'd walked in on him trying to cut off his own arm last night and had awakened to find him gone.

"I'm fine," he assured him quickly. What was he to say? How was he to fix this? "Harry, I owe you an apology. I can't begin---"

Severus words were instantly cut off has Harry swiftly crossed the room and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Don't," he pleaded. "Just don't!"

Shocked at the sudden press of warm flesh against him, Severus' thoughts spun in confusion as he hesitantly brought his arms up around the boy. That was it? He was forgiven? Just like that? It didn't seem even remotely possible -- nothing in his life had ever come so easily. But the way Harry was hold him spoke of a desperate need for normalcy or comfort that perhaps transcended his atrocious behavior. Maybe Harry could forgive him -- but was he supposed to forgive himself as well? Could he really accept something so good and pure into his life without destroying it?

And then he realized that his hands were slowly stroking the smooth skin of Harry's back, and his head had turned so that he could inhale the sweet scent of heated flesh rising from the body in his arms as his magic greedily drank in the power surrounding him. His body was already growing hard with need, and he knew there was absolutely nothing good or pure about the directions his thoughts were going. In fact he was very likely to do something else unforgivable any moment now unless he put a stop to this.

"You realize of course that you're practically naked," he informed the young man, trying to keep his voice light and teasing.

Harry squawked in shock and drew back, glancing down at himself in mortification, all that bare skin turning bright red in embarrassment. A second later he bolted across the room and slammed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Severus alone in the living room to bring his painful aroused body back into his control.

He sank wearily down into one of the arm chairs -- how in Merlin's name was he going to survive like this? He wanted him so badly it hurt! And it had gone beyond just craving his body -- he had a horrible suspicion after what had happened last night and the realization that Voldemort was draining his magic, that he was also craving Harry's power. How sick was that -- this young man who was willing to sacrifice himself for everyone, who forgave Severus his crimes -- and all Severus could think about was feeding on his power, like some lust driven vampire.

What a wonderful human being he was, Severus thought in disgust. What a great protector Albus had picked for the Boy Who Lived. What a wonderful, virtuous, unselfish man the Marriage Stone had chosen as the bondmate for the Wizarding World's Savior. Arthur Pendragon had been married to the beautiful Guinevere -- but poor Harry Potter got stuck with the evil Black Knight.

A sound at the owl entrance distracted him from his increasingly dark thoughts, and Harry's white owl Hedwig flew in, dropping the morning paper on Severus' lap before landing on her perch and staring at him. She looked slightly rumpled this morning, and Severus frowned in concern. But she just chirped at him, and looked rather pointedly at the paper she'd delivered.

The Daily Prophet was unusually thick today. Severus unfolded it and stared down at the headlines. All the other millions of things he should be thinking about instead of how sweet Harry's skin smelled or how perfect his body felt pressed against his own came rushing back to him.

Oh Merlin, he though in shock as he stared down at the blazing headline and the photo on the front page. He was married to the King of the Wizarding World. How in Salazar's name was he supposed to deal with that?

----------------

Author's notes:

Sorry I didn't get this out on the weekend. As I'm sure you can imagine, this was a rather difficult chapter to write. And like some of the others, it's gone through several rewrites. And then I ran into a technical glitch as MS Word decided to implode and ate the entire chapter. I had to recreate everything from scratch. Don't you just love modern technology?

I've noticed a whole string of new readers leaving messages in the review area -- glad to see everyone and thank you so much to all the wonderful comments everyone has been leaving. Believe it or not, out of the six thousand plus comments I've gotten on this story, I've only had 4 actual flames -- and they were of the hit-and-run variety that were easy to dismiss. The marriage proposals I've received far outweigh the flames I'm happy to say.

By the way -- one of my reviewers asked to translate the story into French and wanted to know if I had received the email requesting this. I'm afraid my email inbox is so flooded with messages that I'm having a nearly impossible time getting through all of them -- and I can't find the request (or requests -- there may be more of you out there.) I'm happy to have my story translated -- my only request is that you keep my headers in place (title, credit, disclaimers). As far as I know it's already being translated into over a dozen different languages -- French included. But I'm sure there is always room for more. I wish I could speak more than one language -- especially since I've been getting reviews in other languages as well. Sigh...

Regarding the use of Dittany -- yes, that was stolen from book 7. As I've said this story is only cannon through book 4, but I have used a few characters from some of the other books. I figured there would be no harm in using a couple of potions as well.

Addendum:

I set up a yahoo discussion group if anyone is interested in joining. I'll try and answer more specific questions there. It's simply called "The Marriage Stone" You can join it here: groups . yahoo . com / group / marriagestone/


	64. Chapter 64 The Rest of the World

Chapter 64 - The Rest of the World

A knock at the door drew Severus' attention away from the front page of the paper. He wasn't really ready to face the rest of the world -- he felt raw inside, and strangely vulnerable. And if he were honest with himself, he didn't want Harry to face the rest of the world either -- far better to remain locked up in their quarters where nothing could touch them.

The knock sounded again, and Severus sighed -- ready or not, the rest of the world was not going to go away. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the room and opened the door. Sirius and Remus were waiting in the hall, and he motioned them inside quickly before closing the portrait door once more.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius asked immediately.

"Shower," Severus answered. Remus, he noticed, was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands.

"Albus should be down in a few minutes," Remus informed him as they all moved to sit in front of the fire. "He's gathering some of the international papers, and I think he wanted to find out what was going on with the Ministry."

Sirius glanced toward the closed bedroom door, his eyes filled with concern. "How is he?" he asked, and Severus didn't have to ask who he meant.

Unfortunately Severus also didn't really have a good response. He just shrugged somewhat helplessly. "Confused, but managing. Just like always." Harry always seemed to pull through these things no matter what happened -- he shouldered burdens no one else would, and seemed to accept them as his due.

"Why weren't you there last night?" Sirius asked then, catching Severus off guard. He stared at the man in shock, wondering how he could have known...and then it hit him. Black had been Called. Of course, Black had been Called -- and he had been able to go, unlike Severus.

Seeing the look of shock on Severus' face, Sirius just shrugged. "You and I have hexed each other enough to know exactly how strong the other is. If I was Called, you were Called."

"The Dark Mark," Severus replied bitterly. "It prevented me from answering the Call. The Dark Lord holds my place, and my power." There was no point in sugar-coating the truth. Black and the others would need to know where things stood.

For a long moment Sirius just stared hard at him, and then a look of realization washed over his face. "All those empty places," he hissed. "They weren't empty. They were all Death Eaters. I had wondered why Lucius Malfoy and my cousin Bellatrix were not there."

"How many?" Remus asked. "How many of the places were empty?"

"Nearly half," Sirius replied, and Severus found himself paling at the realization. Half! Half of the most powerful Wizards and Witches in the world had taken the Dark Mark.

"Merlin!" Remus exclaimed. "And that's what we are up against? That's what Harry is up against?"

"Did you know?" Sirius asked Severus accusingly.

Severus glared at him. "Of course I didn't know!" he protested. "None of us did! Do you think any of us would have taken the Mark if we'd known? Can you imagine Lucius Malfoy giving up such a position? And the last thing I ever wanted to do was aid Voldemort."

"Then there's bound to be a whole lot of angry people out there today," Black replied.

"I don't think the Dark Lord cares," Severus replied. "If he's gotten to the point where he's summoning elder demons, he's not even remotely sane any more."

The fire flared suddenly and a moment later Dumbledore flooed through -- stepping out of the fireplace with a stack of newspapers in his hands. The old man looked tired, and Severus couldn't help but wonder how much sleep he might have gotten the night before. He greeted them all and then held out his tin of potion-laced lemon drops in offering. All three of them declined.

"Well," Albus began as he sat down in the armchair opposite Severus. "The whole world is stirred up over these events, and I'm afraid things are not good in the Ministry." He tossed the newspapers down onto the coffee table, and the three of them rifled through them, looking at the various front pages.

Severus paused when he found one of the French papers -- Albus had brought both a French Wizarding Paper as well as a Muggle one. The Muggle papers spoke of a terrorist attack in a major shopping center in the city of Montpellier in the south of France. Along with the destruction of several buildings, and numerous Muggle deaths, the paper also spoke of a nerve gas that had caused mass hallucinations. The French Wizarding paper, however, described the elder demon who had appeared suddenly in the middle of the Muggle shopping center before vanishing again just as suddenly, leaving destruction behind it -- from the description it was the same creature that had appeared in the Quidditch Pitch of Hogwarts.

"The creature appeared all over the world," Albus explained when he noticed Severus' attention to the story. "There are reports of its appearance on every major continent on the planet -- though it only stayed for brief moments in each location. Hogwarts was apparently its finally destination which is why it did not leave on its own."

"It was looking for something?" Remus suggested.

Albus shrugged. "Perhaps. Regardless, the world is terrified. The world governments are demanding full access to Harry. They say if another one of these things appears, they need to know that Harry will come to their countries immediately to stop it."

Severus felt his heart clench at that -- he knew of course that the international claim was coming, but to hear Albus say it, made it sound so final. "What was the Ministry's response?" He couldn't imagine the British Ministry willing to give up what little control they did have over Harry. King or not, Savior or not, Harry was still a British citizen.

Albus sighed at that, and tugged on his beard. "I'm afraid we have some problems of our own. There's a bit of a coup going on in the Ministry at the moment."

Severus, Sirius and Remus stared at Albus in shock. Severus knew that Fudge would be facing some difficult times ahead of him -- but the idea that there might be an actual disruption to the government had not occurred to him.

"Who..." Remus sputtered, only to shake his head as he tried to formulate an appropriate question.

"Who isn't!" Albus stated. "Everyone is clamoring for Fudge's resignation -- and failing that, there is also a group suggesting that he simply be tried and executed for crimes against the state. The Wizengamot is trying to retain order, but the Aurors, in mass, openly defied Fudge -- which is the equivalent of a no-confidence vote and temporarily removes him from office. They are also reluctant to listen to the Wizengamot without a proper Minister to head it."

"What precipitated this?" Severus asked in amazement. He could tell yesterday that Stark and his men had not been happy with Fudge, but they had still largely been following his orders as they pertained to restoring order after the attack. And the current leader of the Aurors, Maxwell Darmut, was a law-and-order traditionalist. Something must have happened to cause such a reaction.

Albus gave a rather uncharacteristic eye-roll, as if he too could not believe the way things had spiraled out of control. "Fudge decided to issue an arrest order for Harry, claiming he was a threat to our way of life. Then Fudge had to compound his troubles by attempting to bring in Muggle authorities to regain order -- apparently he's got some deal already set up with the Muggle government. The Muggle Prime Minister has also ordered Harry's arrest -- claiming he's a threat to national security, and has called out their military to seize the Ministry."

"The Muggles seized the Ministry?" Sirius exclaimed in shock. All three men were looking at Albus in disbelief.

But Albus shook his head. "No, the Wizengamot immediately put the Ministry into a state of lock-down -- no one can get in or out of the building at the moment, and the Muggles can't even find the building. Needless to say the streets around the Ministry building are flooded with Muggle soldiers looking for something to seize. But that's not actually the real problem."

"There's more?" Remus asked. All of them looked horrified.

Albus just nodded. "When the Ministry building went into lock-down there were a number of people of note inside it --- among them was Lucius Malfoy who seems to have gone a bit mad. Upon realizing that he'd been locked in, he began formally challenging people to duels. There is a little known clause in our law books that states that since there is technically no Minister currently in office, our legal system immediately reverts back to the Feudal Order that places each member of the Wizengamot as sheriff of a specific province of Brittan. This was meant to insure that order was maintained in the event of an assassination of one or more of our leaders."

"That means they hold their positions by Right of Magic, rather than electoral vote," Remus exclaimed in shock -- and Severus found himself equally uneasy. Only the members of the International Confederation of Wizards held their places by Right of Magic -- and they had little to do with the daily governing of the world. All the Wizengamot positions were elected positions and with a few exceptions, Albus the most noted, most of them were politicians instead of magically strong Wizards and Witches.

"The Wizengamot should have cleared the Ministry building before locking it down under these circumstances -- unfortunately the sudden appearance of Muggle soldiers forced their hand. This morning Lucius Malfoy has already dueled five wizards, taken five wands, and now legally holds five positions on the Wizengamot. By this afternoon he'll likely hold several more. He is effectively dissolving our government as it exists today," Albus explained. An odd look crossed his face. "On a curious note, however, he hasn't actually killed anyone."

"What?" Severus asked in surprise. He'd seen Lucius duel many times before. He always went for the kill, and never showed mercy.

Albus just shrugged. "The five wizards he's dueled are all still alive. He stunned them. I can't help but think he is plotting something else we don't know about."

Severus felt stunned. "You think he wants an alliance with Harry?"

The old man's eyes twinkled suddenly. "I think it's a distinct possibility. I don't think he was happy about the events of yesterday and last night. The Wizards he's dueled are the ones most likely to cause trouble for Harry -- and those who openly supported Fudge."

"We can't trust him," Severus warned.

"I'm well aware of that," Albus nodded in agreement. "But until we know exactly what he's up to, we can't do anything about it."

"Has he issued a challenge to you?" Severus asked curiously, thinking it unlikely that Lucius would risk that. Albus was one of the few members of the Wizengamot who could hold his place by Right of Magic -- he was one of the few members of the Wizengamot that was also in the International Confederation of Wizards.

Albus shook his head in response, though Severus thought the man looked rather intrigued by the idea. He had not dueled in a long while -- at least not that Severus knew about. Perhaps he was eager to try his hand against the younger crop of Wizards.

"What about the other Minister candidates?" Remus asked. "Madam Bones is on the Wizengamot. I don't think I've ever seen her duel."

"She's the one who contacted me this morning to tell me what was going on," Albus admitted. "She was fine a half hour ago, and she promised to keep us updated. She has to relay messages through portraits however so there is a bit of delay in the information."

"You said 'a number of people of note'," Severus mused thoughtfully and then frowned when he saw the look on Albus' face. "There's been other duels! Who else was there?"

"A Wizard by then name Valerian Ventus claimed a seat in the name of the Vampire Lord Aventine," Albus replied. "Curiously they took back the seat they lost 400 years ago when the Anti-Vampire legislation was passed. There was also a man by the name of Merik Volpine who has claimed a seat in the name of Remus Lupin."

"What?" Remus exclaimed in shock. Severus just stared, having a hard time believing all he was hearing.

"Volpine is a member of the International Confederation of Wizards, but has never had any interest in government," Albus told Lupin. "He's also a werewolf. Because of his condition he's never had children, and has been looking for an heir for a long time. He's had his eyes on you for a number of years. After your cure was publicized, he decided you were worthy of his title. He's publicly proclaimed you his heir and has claimed the seat in your name since he still has no desire to rule. He feels you are the one who can restore equal rights to werewolves."

Remus looked stunned, and Sirius reached out and took hold of his hand in comfort. "But none of this is legal," Remus protested with a shake of his head. "You can't just take seats on the Wizengamot by force!"

"I'm afraid at this moment in time, it is all very legal," Albus replied. "Lucius knows Wizarding Law as well anyone. The only thing they are all lacking at the moment is some means of enforcing their will on the rest of the country. The Aurors are refusing to listen to anyone except Stark and Darmut -- and they're both no longer willing to take orders from anyone in the Ministry until they find out who has the actual legal authority."

"Lack of enforcement won't last for long," Severus pointed out. "Lucius has the money to hire an army of mercenaries if he has to -- and Lord Aventine has all the Vampire clans at his disposal. I don't suppose the goblins have taken sides?"

"No," Albus looked amused at that. "It's business as usual at Gringotts."

"Anyone else we should know about?" Severus asked.

"Ah, yes," Albus nodded. "One more you might find interesting, Severus. Your sister Diana Snape Brand has claimed a seat in the name of the Winter Lands -- which sets a whole new precedent since they are now considered a foreign nation. Technically her actions constitutes an invasion -- but so far no one has shown any interest in calling her on it. Even Lucius has steered clear of her. And speaking of armies, there's a troop of five hundred Viking warriors camped outside of Hogwarts ready to take up arms to defend their King. They have promised more if we need them."

Severus groaned in shock. How much more insanity could they stand -- things were spinning completely out of control.

"Albus, what are we going to . . ." Remus began, only to fall silent when the bedroom door opened and Harry emerged, freshly showered and dressed.

All four of them immediately stood to their feet, and Severus saw an odd expression move across Harry's face at their actions. It gave Severus a moment of pause and he glanced at the other three men -- instinct had driven them to their feet, and by the looks of sheepishness on the other men's faces, they became aware of that fact at the same time. Harry did not seem particularly happy by this display, and deliberately walked in silence across the room to the side table and the tea service Severus kept near the fireplace.

The four men exchanged bewildered glances at Harry's uncharacteristic silence, and sat down uncomfortably, while Harry prepared his morning tea. The boy whispered something, and Dobby instantly appeared beside him, handing him several more cups to place on the tea tray before vanishing again.

A few moments later Harry carried the tray over to the coffee table and knelt down in front of it. They all watched in silence as Harry prepared five cups -- two strong, black coffees which he set in front of Severus and Sirius. A cup of tea with milk and three sugars which he set in front of Albus, and two more cups of tea with milk and one sugar, one of which he set in front of Remus. He took the other for his own, and then rose, moving around the table to sit between Sirius and Remus on the couch. Without words, they all got the message he was conveying loud and clear -- he was the same person today as he had been yesterday morning. The rest of the world would be hard enough to deal with -- he wouldn't be able to handle things if his friends and family began treating him any differently.

Sirius placed his arm around his shoulders and kissed him lightly on the temple. "Sorry, kiddo," he apologized for all of them.

Harry just nodded, his expression understanding. He motioned towards the numerous papers scattered on the coffee table. "So what's the damage?" he asked reluctantly.

"Well," Sirius began with a quick wink at Remus. "Apparently everyone who was out on the field yesterday is getting their own Chocolate Frog Card. Of course I had one before, but now they have to move me out of the Dangerous Criminal category into the Hero category so they're going to reissue it. The other one is bound to become a collector's item, which is good because Remus owns seventeen of them."

At his words, Harry started to laugh, grinning in delight when he saw the embarrassed flush of color in Remus' cheeks.. Despite everything, Severus had to smile -- though he tried to hide it from the others. Black knew exactly what to say to ease the tension in the room and set Harry at ease. He wished he had such an ability, but he supposed he'd just have to settle for his usual stoicism. Both had their places.

It took the four of them about twenty minutes to catch Harry up on the highlights of the news, including the news that the students of Hogwarts had only suffered a few minor injuries which had been taken care of immediately. While casualties due to the collapsed stands had been high -- over two hundred people injured -- the deaths had numbered only twenty-three. Of those twenty-three, fifteen had been eaten by the creature and left no body for burial. The look of grief and regret on Harry's face at the mention of those numbers, was one Severus did not want to see again. How Harry could shoulder such blame was beyond him -- and all of them urged him to instead think of the numbers he had saved.

Harry studied the international papers while Albus explained about the other appearances of the creature -- the French papers in particular caught his notice as he studied the unmoving Muggle photo of the damaged shopping mall. "It was marking a sigil on the ground," he told them all unexpectedly. "I don't know why, or what the sigil meant -- I never got a good look at it. I don't think the creature knew what it was for either -- only that Voldemort had ordered it done."

The four of them exchanged looks of unease at Harry's words. "The Ravens showed you this, Harry?" Albus asked with deceptive calmness.

"No," Harry began with a shake of his head, and then paused thoughtfully as if uncertain about something. "I don't know ... maybe. I just know that one moment I was watching the Quidditch players, and the next I was in Canada inside that creature's mind." He shuddered, and shook his head again, almost violently as if trying to shake off terrible memories. Remus and Sirius both reached out to grasp one of Harry's hands in comfort, and Severus had to restrain himself from moving to his side. He couldn't help but remember the state Harry had been in yesterday after the attack.

"The sigils might be transfer points," Remus suggested, glancing at Albus for confirmation.

"Transfer points?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded. "Arithmancy symbols are used to connect floos to the floo system, or to set up public apparation or portkey points. It connects two points together magically."

"So you think he's setting up launch points of attack?" Harry asked. "Places to apparate in Death Eaters?"

"The wards haven't been breached," Albus said with a shake of his head, his features set in a deep frown as he tried to work out the puzzle. "If he succeeded in setting up an apparation point on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, the wards would register it."

"Unless it's not Death Eaters he's planning on apparating in," Severus suggested and they all glanced at him in alarm. He just shrugged. "Lucius said he seems to have lost interest in his Death Eaters -- that he keeps himself surrounded by creatures, new servants. What if he's not planning to use the Death Eaters to attack -- what if he's raising a demonic army?"

He saw them all open their mouths to protest such a thing, only to shut them again when they realized that protesting would be pointless. Voldemort had already proven he had no sanity left when he'd raised the Elder Demon.

"There's something else we're not seeing," Harry informed them, his gaze focused on the flames of the fire. "He said he'd discovered a secret, a brilliant, terrible secret, and with it he will end the war. I don't think he was talking about an army."

Severus glanced over at Albus in alarm, remembering the conversation the two of them had had about the great secret that Grindelwald had sought -- the secret that would let him rule the world. Albus looked as pale as Severus had ever seen him. "Harry," the old man caught all their attention. "This is important. Did he say he knew this secret -- or that he was looking for it?"

Harry's green eyes looked haunted. "He knows it. He found it last Autumn. I remember dreaming about it -- I remember because he was happy. It was something he discovered in Slytherin's books -- the Dark ones."

"Then maybe there is an answer in the books you are translating," Albus suggested, looking hopeful.

Harry just shrugged. "I haven't found anything like that. No reference to some great secret -- no talk of war, or conquest, or battles. I haven't studied all of them in detail, but I have read them all." To date he'd only finished translating three of them, which Severus and Albus had both been pouring over. "I would have remembered if he'd spoken about some secret that could conquer the world."

"Then perhaps it's simply not spelled out as such," Albus mused. "Voldemort has had those books in his possession for over fifty years -- he's bound to have read them over and over again. If he only just discovered this secret recently, then perhaps it's something hidden, something that is not obvious."

"Maybe it's something you have to be insane to understand," Harry replied. He reached out to pick up the Daily Prophet and stared down at the photo. A photographer had caught an image of the battle on the Quidditch Pitch -- a moving account of the horror they had all faced yesterday, men and women caught in the very act of dying, the determination on Harry's face, the fear and resolve on the faces of all those who stood behind him and shielded him from the blows the creature had rained down upon them. It was a horrible picture -- and one that would preserve that event for the history books. "Something worse than this," Harry whispered as he stared at the creature.

None of them knew how to respond to such a statement, and the last thing Severus wanted to imagine was something worse than the events they had faced yesterday. What could possibly be worse than unleashing an Elder Demon on the world?

With a sigh, Harry set the paper aside. "Headmaster," he asked hesitantly. "This whole nonsense about being king...it's like with the Winter Lands, right? It doesn't really mean anything, right?" They could all see the hope in his eyes as he asked this question, willing them to confirm his words. And Severus saw the regret in Albus' eyes as he sighed heavily.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Harry," he replied. "That gathering last night was in essence a coronation. The most powerful Wizards and Witches in the world gathered and confirmed your status -- even Voldemort did not contest your position. While this does not effect the governments of the world, it does place you in a legal status above all of them."

"I don't understand," Harry said with a shake of his head.

"I explained some of this to you last Christmas," Remus reminded Harry. "The Ministry and the Wizengamot are responsible for the day to day running of our nation, just like the other countries of the world have their own forms of government. But the Old Laws of Magic -- the ones that all the Wizarding World must follow are enforced by the International Confederation of Wizards."

"Everyone who was present last night in the circle is a potential member of the Confederation," Albus added, sending a rather pointed look to Sirius and Severus. Severus felt his heart twist at the thought -- bound as he was to Voldemort, he could do nothing about claiming such an honor. Black looked startled by the mere suggestion. "Only the most powerful Wizards and Witches are eligible to serve. Not all of those there last night choose to participate, and many were probably unaware of their magical status -- but any of them could claim a seat on the council."

"Even Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Albus nodded. "Even Voldemort -- though I doubt he'd ever bother. He's more inclined to bypass legal authorities. Regardless, last night you in effect became the head of the Confederation. What level of influence you choose to exert is up to you. But there is an aspect of your status that will not be over looked. You have the authority to sit in judgment over any conflict or criminal case in any country of the world. Whether you like it or not, people all over the world will turn to you to resolve their conflicts."

"That means that world governments will do anything in their power to curry favor with you to sway your opinion," Severus added, wanting Harry to understand exactly what pressures he was likely to face.

"There are procedures set in place by the Confederation to deal with such things," Albus informed him. "But it is far easier to sway the opinion of one man, than the judgment of the entire Confederation. People will seek to bypass the Confederation and go directly to you."

Harry looked horrified. "But I don't want to sit in judgment of anyone!" he protested.

Albus gave him a gentle smile. "Then we'll do everything in our power to keep the world at bay for as long as possible."

"As long as possible?" Harry repeated. He turned those green eyes on Severus, his gaze so intense, Severus felt a shiver of awareness go through him. He was struck suddenly by a memory of last night, of lying in Harry's arms as he drifted under the influence of the potion Harry had poured down his throat. 'They're going to take you away from me,' he had said then, terrified of the thought of losing Harry after all they had been through together.

And Harry had denied it, had promised him that he would not let that happen. He could tell that Harry was remembering the same thing now, the fierce but haunted look in his eyes painful to see.

"I won't leave," Harry said now to all of them. "This is my home. You're my family. I won't leave." He was speaking to all of them, but Severus knew the words were meant specifically for him. His heart began pounding hard in his chest. He didn't know what the future held for any of them; he just knew he had to cling to Harry's promise. He had to believe in it utterly -- because the alternative was unthinkable.

----------------------------

Author's Notes:

First off -- sorry this took so long to write. Unlike action-heavy chapters, which I find easier to write, this required that I do a great deal of research before hand, and it took longer than I expected. Trying to figure out the political end of things is hard.

Also, I set up a yahoo discussion group if anyone is interested in joining -- there are currently over 200 members now (which I find amazing!) I'll try and answer more specific questions there. It's simply called "The Marriage Stone". I'm sorry it's in the age restricted section -- I apparently have a lot of young readers. Yahoo requires all slash topics to be listed under 'adult' status -- so either I have to lie about the subject matter, or you have to lie about your age. Either way, there's a lie involved. You can find the address here (add the h t t p portion to the front of the address and take out the spaces).:

groups . yahoo . com / group / marriagestone/

You can skip over the rest of this note if you don't like the dry, history lesson portions of the story. This gets rather long winded, and is really nothing more than background information. I'm putting it here rather than bogging the story down with too much detail.

Regarding the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot:

Sooner or later someone is going to ask about the votes certain people get and how it relates to the elected positions, the laws, and the Wizengamot itself. J.K. Rowlings herself hasn't really explained the workings of her magical government, so I'm pretty much making this stuff up as I go along.

According to the books, the Wizengamot is made up of around 50 wizards. There is no explanation of how they got those positions -- they seem appointed, though she never mentions by whom.

So in this version of the world, those positions are all currently elected positions. They are elected by the powerful families of Britain who possess various votes. The number of votes a family gets depends on the size of their land holdings, their magical powers, and the number of vassals they can claim -- a vassal can be anything from a servant, to a house elf, to a clan of centaurs living on your lands, to employees in family owned businesses. In Harry's case, the Vikings of the Winter Lands are all considered is vassals -- literally because they swore an oath of fealty to him. And yes, this would have changed the number of votes the Potter line can claim -- except for the fact that the Winter Lands is no longer part of Britain.

Vassals can also be families who have sworn an alliance with another family. A single vote isn't worth much -- which is why the lesser families form alliance with more powerful families. In essence these alliances are similar to an electoral college where one family casts everyone's votes collectively. A vassal is also afforded the legal and magical protection of the family above them.

The Weasleys, while an old family, only possess one vote, so they have formed an alliance with the Dumbledores, and have given their vote to him -- incidentally this also why when Lucius challenged Arthur to the duel, Dumbledore step forward. He's responsible for the protection of the Weasley family as part of their alliance.

The Snapes currently have 47 votes.

Remus has had no land, money or vassals, and has never had a vote. His position as a werewolf has also given him very dubious legal status.

The Blacks have 41 votes. But while Sirius was in Azkaban, Narcissa Malfoy claimed the right to cast his votes, as well as the 33 votes of his under-aged godson, Harry.

The Malfoy's have 49 votes. But with the Black and Potter votes, they have been casting 123 votes which his why their family is so powerful. Incidentally -- this also explains why a marriage between Draco and Sirius would have been so advantageous. Any child they had would have gained the votes of both lines.

There is also a provision for very powerful wizards or witches without land or vassals to gain a single vote -- they can be granted the right by the Wizengamot through a process called Magical Acknowledgment. Remus was never eligible, because he's a werewolf.

While I never wrote out the scene, Severus did take steps to remove Harry's and Sirius' votes from Narcissa Malfoy -- now that Harry is an adult, he has the right to cast the votes himself, and claim his godfather's votes also. Now that Sirius is free, however, he can claim back his votes for himself.

These votes are responsible for electing the members of the Wizengamot and the Minister who leads the Wizengamot as well as the pieces of legislature that come up for public election.

HOWEVER: all this has changed with the dismissal of the Minister of Magic as I said in this chapter. In this case the Wizengamot has reverted back to an older form of government, which I based on the Anglo-Saxon Witenagemot which goes back to the 7th century. Instead of being elected, the seats on the Wizengamot are claimed by Magical Prowess -- your number of votes don't count. A duel of magic can get you a seat on the council.

Each seat is responsible for a specific province in Britain -- and holding a seat makes the wizard in question the Lord of the Province (I used the term Sheriff in this chapter -- but its the same concept -- the final legal authority.) If you haven't guessed already, this is something the Slytherin families have been preparing for -- it's why they alone have never given up the practice of dueling -- both with wands and swords. They have wanted things to go back to the old ways for a long time now.

Other people have obviously taken advantage of the situation as well -- while the current form of government seems to have been ratified by Merlin 1500 years earlier, the switch from Magical Power to Political Power seems to have happen more recently. Volpine the werewolf, and Aventine the Vampire (yes, he was the Vampire Harry met at Stonehenge) claimed back seats on the Wizengamot that they (or their predecessors) lost when anti-werewolf and anti-vampire legislation was passed 400 years earlier. And no, they along with Lucius are not going to be so willing to give back those seats when things calm down.

The Magical British government is undergoing a radical change. And while I'm not going to go into great detail -- many of the other governments of the world are facing the same crisis --- Egypt for example is going to go from a very patriarchal rule to a powerful female pharaoh who isn't going to listen to the men who have been controlling her life.

Why doesn't Harry just remove the Dark Mark?

While Harry is incredibly powerful, he isn't particularly knowledgeable. He doesn't know how to remove the Dark Mark -- or even if it's possible. Apparently neither does Dumbledore -- if he knew how to remove it, he would have done so already instead of just binding it. Add that to fact that Harry would have to overcome the entire force of Voldemort's magic as well as all his Death Eaters (Voldemort has access to ALL their power), it makes it unlikely that this would be a simple thing. Remember also that Severus' magic is tied to Voldemort as well -- Harry would be battling Severus own magic which I don't imagine would be good for the tentative bond that is forming between the two of them. I will tell you however that sooner or later this issue will be resolved. Much of this story is building up to the big secret that Voldemort supposedly knows.

On a lighter note -- did you notice that Severus and Sirius were in the same room without fighting?


	65. Chapter 65 Woolgathering

Chapter 65 - Woolgathering

Harry noticed a vague heaviness in his mind as he walked toward the Great Hall for breakfast. He was aware of where he was and where he was going, and he knew Sirius and Severus were walking on either side of him along with Remus and Dumbledore. But there was a fuzzy quality to his thoughts that he found odd -- perhaps he had not slept as well last night as he had assumed. He hadn't taken his potion -- he'd been too worried about Severus -- and yet, he couldn't recall dreaming. And if he was honest with himself, sleeping pressed up against Severus had been a rather novel experience. There was something soothing about having the heat of another body beside him -- something comforting. He could definitely get used to it.

He shook his head, trying to clear the haze from his thoughts. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he couldn't help but think that this morning would be difficult. He'd been stared at before, had his every move scrutinized and published in the papers. But this time it all felt different; it all felt larger somehow.

Beside him he could feel a sense of excitement coming from Sirius, and it occurred to him that today was the first time in many years that Sirius would be able to walk into the crowded Great Hall as a free man. That had to be thrilling for him -- it was likely that the last time he'd stood in the student-filled Hall would have been during his own seventh-year leaving feast. Both of Harry's parents would have been with him then. He glanced sidelong at his godfather and smiled when the man give him a quick wink. Something good had come of yesterday's events -- despite the deaths and the chaos brought to his own life, at least Sirius was safe now.

There were two tall men armed with swords and dressed in chain mail standing in front of the doors to the Great Hall, and judging by their clothing and long blond hair, Harry guessed they were part of the group that had come from the Winter Lands. They both stood a bit straighter when they saw him approaching; the younger one on the left fought to keep a grin off his face. Both men nodded to him, and then opened the double doors. Harry felt a shiver move through his body at their behavior -- was this to be his life from now on?

The familiar noise of hundreds of students talking all at once washed over Harry as he entered the Hall. Silence fell a moment later as people turned to see who had entered. But more startling than the silence was the way everyone immediately stood to their feet. It was a repeat on a grand scale of what had happened that morning when he'd left the bedroom to join the others by the fire. Somehow he didn't think serving tea was going to solve things this time.

A quick glance around the room, revealed various reactions -- all of Gryffindor was smirking at him -- though Harry thought Ron looked ready to burst with something he wanted to say. The Ravenclaws looked utterly intrigued, torn between staring at Harry and watching everyone else in the room. The Hufflepuffs were. . . blushing? Was it possible for an entire House to blush in unison? And the Slytherins were looking far more thoughtful than Harry had ever seen them, as if analyzing the events on a level Harry didn't want to contemplate. Even the other teachers at the head table were standing -- though Hagrid was also grinning from ear to ear.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Dumbledore staring kindly down at him. "Perhaps a few words, Harry, to set things for the future," he suggested.

Set things for the future. Harry wasn't entire certain where to go with that, but he nodded his head anyway turning to stare at the boys and girls he'd been going to school with for the last six years. How on earth did he manage to get himself into these things? There were days when it just didn't pay to get out of bed.

And then just like that the words he needed came to him.

"You know me," he told them. "You know who I am. Think about what you know I must be feeling right now, and ask yourselves what you should be doing."

He saw the confusion on all their faces as they all glanced around at one another uncertainly. And then he saw the Gryffindors smile almost in unison. As one they sat back down in their seats. Comprehension crossed the faces of the other students, and they all began sitting down again. Harry allowed a brief smile to cross his face as he glanced at Dumbledore for reaction.

The old man had a curious look on his face, but a twinkle in his eyes. "Hm," he mused thoughtfully. "I would have used the opportunity to tell an amusing anecdote about billy goats, but I suppose this works just as well."

Sirius and Remus were both grinning at Harry, and Severus -- he just shook his head and sighed. Harry headed straight for his usual seat at Gryffindor table between Ron and Hermione -- the two scooted apart on the bench to make room for him as if understanding his need for physical support.

"Harry," Ron exclaimed as he approached, looking more excited than Harry had ever seen him. "Did you hear the news?"

The news? What possible news could Ron be referring too? The take-over of the Ministry, his sudden rise to the nobility, the attack of the elder demon, the chaos in the rest of the world? There was so much to choose from. But no. . .Ron looked far too excited for it to be any of those things.

"Chocolate Frog Cards?" he asked his friend, remembering Sirius' comments earlier that morning.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

"Wicked," Harry grinned, and all of Gryffindor house began laughing at their exchange, the tension in the room broken in an instant. There were days when Harry absolutely adored Ronald Weasley. He exchanged a look with Hermione; she just smiled and shrugged. Maybe things would be okay after all, Harry thought. Maybe there really were some constants in his life that wouldn't change no matter what? Fuzziness aside, Harry let himself be drawn into the rather amusing conversation about what all of their various Chocolate Frog Cards might say about each of them.

Since it was Sunday and there were no classes to attend, Harry had no real excuse not to meet the people waiting to speak to him after breakfast. Dumbledore had warned him that there were certain things he simply could not avoid -- though he asked both Ron and Hermione to join him. Having Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus and Severus at his side certainly set his mind at ease, but he knew there were things he'd want to ask questions about that he would feel far more comfortable asking Ron and Hermione. Some of those things were bound to fall into the 'stupid questions' category, and he just wouldn't feel comfortable asking the older men. And some of the things would just be Muggle misunderstandings -- he was hoping Hermione would be able to clarify any of those for him.

He spent the rest of the morning meeting people -- first the group from the Winter Lands who were apparently going to act has an extra security force around Hogwarts. Surprisingly Dumbledore did not turn them away -- which worried Harry. If Dumbledore thought such measures were necessary, he knew things were changing rapidly around him.

There were also a handful of Ministry workers who had been locked out of the Ministry when it it had been surrounded by the Muggle Military -- among them were a rather large group of Aurors, who didn't know what to do with themselves. Left without a Minister and no communication with their superiors or the Wizengamot, they turned to Dumbledore, the senior member of the Wizengamot, and Harry for guidance -- most of them were sent off to offer their aid to the workers in St. Mungos who were still dealing with the large number of injured Wizards and Witches from the attack.

The Press Core was screaming for an interview with Harry -- and for once both Dumbledore and Harry saw a need to answer some of their questions. The attack in the Quidditch Pitch had panicked the population -- something had to be said to calm them down. Hermione helped Harry word a nice, calming press release which they distributed to the media -- the whole thing felt somewhat surreal to Harry and he found himself eager for the day to end.

Along with the people trying to get in to talk to Harry, there were also the owls. With the Ministry locked down, Harry's mail was unable to reach the Ministry official who had been left in charge of weeding through all of it. All of it came right back to Hogwarts -- and the sheer amount of it staggered Harry. There were letters coming from all over the world -- and this was still only the day-after the life changing events. How much worse would it be tomorrow, or the day after that? In the end they had no choice but to leave the job of collecting the letters in the capable hands of the House Elves.

It wasn't until well after lunch that Severus finally decided that Harry had done enough for the day -- a fact that Harry was immensely grateful for. The strange heaviness had never really faded from his mind -- despite the numerous cups of tea he'd drunk. And while it hadn't really developed into a full-blown headache, he had the distinctive feeling that he was only hearing half of what was going on around him. As luck would have it -- apparently half was about all he needed to hear. For the most part people just wanted to see him -- literally 'see' him -- perhaps to shake his hand, or thank him for saving them the previous day. Smiling, saying something vague, and nodding his head at the appropriate time was apparently enough to satisfy everyone around him. All in all Harry found the whole thing perplexing. Perhaps tomorrow, he told himself, things would start to look different. Perhaps tomorrow, things would start to go back to normal.

Hermione and Ron invited Harry to come back to Gryffindor Tower where the rest of the sixth year students were going to spend the afternoon working on the essay Professor McGonagall had assigned them in class on Friday. Promising to join them, Harry headed down to his quarters with Severus to gather his books. It occurred to him as the two of them walked through the dungeon corridors that there was something important he had wanted to talk to Severus about -- but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Severus asked as they walked. Harry thought he heard concern in the man's voice and glanced over at him curiously. Why wouldn't he be alright, he wondered? It wasn't as if he'd been injured or anything.

"Fine," he nodded, notice that Severus was rubbing unconsciously at his arm. "Is the Mark hurting you?"

Severus frowned, but shook his head. "No, it's just. . ." he shrugged. "It's more of a residual pain. I can't seem to to forget that it's there."

Which sounded rather strange to Harry -- it had been there for years. Why was he having such trouble now? He thought about that hard for a moment, but the haze in his head just seemed to get thicker and he sighed in annoyance. Instead he reached out and took hold of Severus' hand. The man looked startled by the gesture, and Harry smiled at him.

"Are you certain you're all right?" Severus asked again.

"Yes," Harry nodded mildly. It was rather amusing how worried Severus sounded -- wasn't so long ago the man had hated him. First through fifth year in fact -- Harry found that though oddly distressing. Things were much better now.

They reached the portrait door to their quarters and entered. Harry went straight to the bedroom to retrieve his books while Severus sat down in front of the fire. It only took Harry a moment to find his book bag -- the satchel was sitting where he always left it beside the trunk at the foot of the bed. Bending down to check that his transfiguration book was safely tucked inside, he caught a glint of something bright out of the corner of his eye.

Frowning Harry peered under the bed. There was something there -- just beyond one of the legs of the bed post. Curiously, he reached under the bed for the small object, pulling it out into the candlelight so that he could have a better look at it. He found himself starting down at his own Heartstone.

For a brief moment Harry's mind went blank. And then the questions began swirling through his thoughts. Why was his Heartstone on the floor under the bed -- left there as if it had been tossed away? He felt a strange tightening in his chest. He'd thought it a rather pretty stone -- green with strange streaks of red running through it. His friends had all certainly admired it. He'd worked hard on it -- McGonagall had given him a high grade. But then again -- it was just a stone. A lump of rock. Hardly valuable, beyond some sentimentality someone might foolishly attach to it.

It wasn't important. He probably should have thrown it away himself.

Sighing, he stood and moved over to his nightstand, opening the drawer there. He set the stone inside beside his box of potions, and slid the drawer closed, hiding it from sight. Silly, he thought, as he rubbed at his head. So silly to place such value on a lump of rock. The fuzziness in his head was really becoming annoying. Grabbing his book bag, he headed for the door.

-------------------------------

Severus waited worriedly by the fire. He'd been watching Harry all day, waiting for some sign of stress, and had failed to see it. Granted the boy had gotten more and more tired as the day had worn on, but he'd been in a remarkably placid mood. He appeared to have enjoyed breakfast -- they'd all listened in on the rather hilarious conversation the Gryffindors were having about the Chocolate Frog Cards. Apparently the Weasley twins wanted to be photographed in matching duck costumes.

Harry had also handled the large number of meetings he'd been forced to sit through with remarkable calmness.

Lupin and Black had stayed close beside him all morning; Black spent the morning cracking quiet jokes under his breath that kept not only Harry but his two friends entertained. Throughout the meetings Albus had kept one of his tins of lemon drops on the table, and he'd seen both Black and Lupin sneak one into their mouths from time to time, indicating that neither of them were as calm as they both looked. If he hadn't known better, Severus would have guessed that Harry had also been eating the lemon drops. But he had watched far too closely to have missed such a thing. Harry's calmness had not been potion-induced.

Which was remarkable.

Severus himself was a nervous wreck. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened yesterday and last night. More and more memories of his mental-break down the previous night kept coming back to haunt him at odd moments. And while the Dark Mark on his arm was not hurting any longer, he could still feel it. It felt cold, heavy, like an iron chain weighing him down. When Albus had told all of them about Lucius Malfoy's behavior at the Ministry, he'd had little doubt in his mind about what had prompted such a thing. Severus had reacted with desperation -- trying to cut off the Mark so that he could reach Harry. Lucius would have become enraged. The idea that his power was bound -- there was no way Lucius Malfoy had weathered that realization calmly.

He'd known Lucius his whole life -- the man had always preferred to manipulate things from the shadows. He'd never attempted to run for public office -- never even spoke about seeking a seat on the Wizengamot. But he'd always had power -- had always craved more. To have discovered in a single moment that all that power was utter illusion compared to what he'd inadvertently given up -- it had apparently driven him out of the shadows. Lucius' actions in the Ministry were his only way of rebelling against the enslavement of the Dark Lord. Severus knew he would not willingly give away whatever power he managed to seize for himself over the next few days.

Nervously Severus began rubbing at his arm again, his fingers tracing the coils of wire beneath his shirt sleeve. He wanted the Dark Mark gone -- he hated it. Hated Voldemort. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he fought back the shout of rage that the mere thought of that man -- that creature! -- engendered in him. All day he'd fought this rage. And mixed amongst the rage was fear and loathing. What was going to happen next? What was Voldemort planning? What would happen to Harry? How did the Mark effect any potential bond with Harry -- when that thought had struck him he'd almost gotten sick.

He was bound to Voldemort -- what happened if he consummated his bond with Harry? Voldemort could steal his magic -- could he hurt others near him through the Dark Mark? He could take Lucius Malfoy's magic -- could he also take Narcissa's? As far as he knew she was yet unMarked. He determined to research bonds at the first opportunity. And beyond what it might mean for his relationship with Harry -- what if Voldemort had access to not only all his Death Eaters, but all their spouses as well? How could they possibly stand against such strength?

With all those emotions running through his mind, it left him wondering how it was that Harry had remained so calm. After all sixteen-years old boys -- even ones as extraordinary as Harry Potter -- were not known for their calm temperaments.

But Harry had insisted that he was fine when he'd asked him earlier in the hallway. And then he'd taken hold of Severus' hand.

Severus frowned. The events of yesterday aside, that had been completely out of character for Harry. It might have been typical Gryffindor behavior -- but Harry was anything but a typical Gryffindor.

The door to the bedroom opened and Harry emerged a moment later, his book bag slung over one shoulder. One look at his face, and Severus knew something was wrong. The boy's cheeks were pale, his eyes oddly glassy as if he weren't entirely certain where he was. Severus stood up immediately. "Harry? Is something wrong?"

For a moment Harry just stared at him, and then he shook his head as if chasing away some dark thought in his mind. "No . . .I'm . . ." he shook his head again, and then laughed suddenly, giving Severus an oddly sheepish look. The sudden switch in emotion unsettled Severus. "It's just an odd memory. You know how sometimes the strangest things come back to haunt you? Gathering wool I think they call it?"

"Woolgathering?" Severus clarified, confused by Harry's response. Was he dwelling on the events of yesterday? The attack? The injured people? The Calling?

"That's it," Harry nodded with smile. "Woolgathering."

"About what?" Severus frowned. If Harry needed to talk, it was better not to let things fester. And Merlin knew the two of them needed to talk about a lot of things -- he didn't have any idea where to start, but he knew they needed to talk about what had happened last night. Harry might have forgiven his violent behavior -- but Severus was not able to simply sweep it all aside. He'd attacked Harry last night -- some explanation was necessary.

"When I was little, I made a card for my Aunt Petunia in primary school. It must have been second or third year," Harry explained, and Severus found himself more perplexed than ever. Primary school?

"It was our teacher's idea," Harry continued, speaking almost blithely though the haunted look had not yet left his eyes despite the faint smile on his lips. "It was Valentine's Day and we were all told to make cards for our mothers. Of course I didn't have a mother, so I made one for Aunt Petunia. I worked on that card all day -- I remember taking it to lunch with me so that I could make it perfect for her. When I got home I watched as Dudley gave her his card -- she gushed over it and hung it up on the refrigerator. And then I gave her mine. She tore it up without ever even opening it and tossed it in the garbage." He laughed suddenly as if the memory was somehow amusing. "That's what I was thinking about. Woolgathering. . .I'm going to write about the effect transfigured ingredients have on potions."

"What?" Severus stared at the boy in confusion.

Harry motioned to his book bag. "My transfiguration essay," he explained as if that was what they had been talking about all along. "The effect of transfigured potion ingredients -- it's due tomorrow." He headed out the door, leaving Severus standing there in bewildered disbelief.

"What the hell?" Severus muttered under his breath. He found himself replaying Harry's story in his head, trying to find some hidden meaning in it. With all the other insane things going on in his life, why was Harry thinking about his Aunt Petunia? And what a horrible story to be thinking about -- it certainly didn't seem like something he should be laughing over. Not to mention that under normal circumstances getting Harry to talk about his childhood was like pulling teeth. And here he was volunteering a story all on his own -- about his Aunt. And some Muggle card. A Valentine's Day card.

A sharp spike of panic struck Severus and he raised his hand to his throat, seeking out the familiar chain and the stone he wore hidden under his clothing. It was gone. The Heartstone he wore around his neck was gone!

Severus' blood began pounding in his ears. Had he been wearing it this morning? He couldn't remember -- he'd gotten up, taken a shower, gotten dressed. He couldn't remember if the stone had still been around his neck then.

Racing into the bedroom he found himself staring at the place on the floor he'd been sitting last night when he'd tried to cut the Dark Mark from his arm. He'd ripped off his clothes -- he remembered tearing at his robe and shirt so that he could get to the Mark.

Drawing his wand he cast a quick Accio. A sound from the bedside drew his attention to Harry's nightstand -- the drawer was rattling. A moment later it slid open and the familiar green Heartstone flew to his hand. The chain he'd fastened to it was gone. Another quick Accio caused the broken chain to slither out from underneath the bed.

Severus stared down at the stone in his hand. If the House Elves had found the stone on the floor they would have put it in the jewelery box Severus kept in his wardrobe.

Harry had found it. Harry had found it on the floor -- under the bed most likely. Would he have known it had fallen off last night? Or would he have imagined that like his Aunt Petunia he had tossed aside the gift months ago, having no value in it?

He grew nauseated with the thought and sat down on the edge of the bed. All he could see was the look in Harry's eyes when he'd walked through the bedroom door. He squeezed the Heartstone in his fist, feeling the pulse of magic that emanating from the stone -- Harry's presence, so powerful but so damned raw and vulnerable. What was he doing? What in hell was he doing? He'd warned Albus that first day back in September.

"I don't care if I'm the best choice! I don't care that there's nobody else! I don't care that the damned Marriage Stone picked me!" he'd informed Albus when he'd tried to persuade him to go through with the insane plan of marrying Harry. "It won't work. We hate each other -- we have nothing in common. We'll be miserable together. I'll make him miserable."

"The Marriage Stone matched you, Severus," Albus had replied. "That can only mean that the two of you are perfectly suited to one another."

"You're going to take a boy who's apparently been abused his entire life and give him to me?" Severus had exclaimed in shock. "So I can do what? Chop him up into tiny pieces and use him in a potion -- because that's pretty much all I know now to do, Albus. Look at all my past relationships if you want to see how this is going to work out -- my own family isn't even speaking to me any more."

"The boy needs you," Albus had said simply. And just like that Severus had caved, seduced by the very idea that he might actually be needed. That somehow, he and he alone, could do something to fix the wrongs in Harry's life.

And here he was making a mess of everything once again.

----------------------

Author's notes:

I do try to get these out weekly, but I've been having difficulty finding the time. Hopefully I can get more written this weekend.

And yes -- I realize that Harry is not acting normal -- there's a reason for that.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Even those of you who don't celebrate -- I hope you have a wonderful day!


	66. Chapter 66 Synesthesia

Chapter 66 -- Synesthesia

Draco had joined the study group in Gryffindor Tower, and despite the strange fog in his brain, Harry had to smile as he entered the room. He doubted he'd ever get used to the sight of the elegant, blond Slytherin amongst all that red. Neville was still nervous around the boy, but Dean and Seamus didn't seem to mind his presence. Lavender and Parvati liked having yet another boy to flirt with -- though their attentions were lost on Draco. Around the Gryffindors, he didn't do much to hide the fact that he was utterly smitten by Charlie.

They all greeted Harry as he entered. Despite the fact that the sixth-years had claimed the common room for their study session, there were dozens of other students crowded into the room. Harry could feel all their eyes upon him as he joined his friends near the fire. He resolved to ignore them, and he gratefully sank down onto the couch between Neville and Dean. There were dozens of books spread out on the coffee table along with parchments and quills. Most of the heaviest books were in front of Hermione. Despite this, there seemed to be very little actual studying going on.

The newspapers were still making the rounds, and the topic of discussion seemed to be the events in the Ministry. Despite the lock down, word had spread about what was going on. Afternoon special additions of the paper had been filled with bits and pieces of news along with wild speculations. Photos of armed Muggle soldiers in the streets around the hidden Ministry building had caused all sorts of reactions. And everyone was second guessing what Lucius Malfoy might be up to.

When Severus and the others had told him that it was possible that Lucius Malfoy might be seeking a future alliance with him, Harry hadn't know what to think. Was he just supposed to forgive the man? After what he had done to Remus, he wasn't certain that was possible -- he'd tried to have Remus euthanized. He knew he should be focusing on the bigger picture -- but right now it was difficult to focus on anything.

"I just don't see how it's legal?" Hermione was complaining, directing most of her words toward Draco.

Draco just shrugged. "He's been talking about a return to the old ways all my life, but I never thought it would actually happen?"

"Can he do that?" Hermione asked. "Just take seats by dueling?" She looked at Harry for an answer.

Harry tried to remember what Dumbledore and the others had explained to him that morning. The haze in his mind wasn't making things easy, but he did his best to force his way past it and organize his thoughts. "Apparently without a Minister in power, the Ministry reverts to some older form of government where such things are legal."

"But that's. . .," she shook her head and glared at Draco. "A return to the old ways?"

"Before Muggles began influencing our society so much," he clarified, and they all heard vague traces of the old prejudices in his voice. No doubt he'd been raised listening to such talk. "All the top leadership positions in our society were held by Right of Magic until Muggles began influencing our world. Someone got the idea of holding elections -- and before we knew it our government was being run by bureaucrats instead of warriors."

"It's called a democracy," Hermione informed him.

He just shrugged his shoulders. "Democracy and elections are what gave us a Minister like Fudge."

"And you think we'll be better off with your father?" she scoffed.

"I didn't say that," Draco protested. "But some times things fall apart -- and the only way to fix them is to go back to the beginning."

"So Lucius Malfoy is just going to snap up as many seats as he can?" Hermione asked. She looked rather horrified by the idea.

"There must be some limitation?" Dean protested. "What happens if he takes all the seats? Does he just become the default Minister or something?"

"He can't," Draco replied. "There must be at least twelve members of the Wizengamot in session at any given time for it to be legal. It used to be made up of twelve inner council member, lead by the thirteenth member called the Chief Warlock -- all spots earned by Right of Magic. The outer council was made up of twenty to a hundred lesser members which were either elected or appointed."

"Twelve inner circle members and a Chief Warlock?" Hermione frowned. "That sounds like the same structure as Voldemort's Inner Circle."

Harry noticed passively that everyone in the room cringed at Hermione's words, and it took him a moment to realize they were reacting to the name Voldemort. He had the sudden urge to start giggling, and barely managed to suppress the impulse. The fog in his head thickened.

"There was a time when that was the message You Know Who stood for," Draco began, only to be stopped when a dozen mistrustful glares were turned toward him. He glared back at all of them just as fiercely. "Don't look at me like that!" he protested. "It's in the history books! I think we can all agree that he's a bloody mad man now, but there was a time when all he did was preach a political message about a return to the old ways. People all over the world were upset about the constant encroachment of Muggle society into ours. That's why people were so willing to join him."

"People like your Aunt Bellatrix?" Neville asked angrily, showing some of his Gryffindor backbone for the first time in a long while. A number of Gryffindors in the room began grumbling in agreement -- several seventh year students had moved closer to the group and were eying Draco mistrustfully now.

Draco's blue eyes hardened to stormy gray. "I'm not responsible for my Aunt's behavior."

Neville set his jaw stubbornly. "Sounds to me like you're happy about this return to the old ways."

"Back off!" Ron suddenly growled, and Harry saw Draco flinch at the sound. But one look at Ron showed that he was glaring at Neville, directing his words toward the Gryffindors. The look of surprise on Draco's face was almost enough to make Harry start giggling again. "He's one of us, remember?" Ron informed Neville and the others. "He stood beside us and defended Harry."

Ron's words seemed to strike home, for the glares vanished, and Harry found himself blinking in surprise. That's right, he told himself, Draco had been there yesterday, hadn't he? He couldn't help but think he ought to say something himself, but Ron appeared to have things well in hand -- even the seventh years backed down at his words. Harry smiled faintly -- he was too tired to think clearly anyway.

Hermione however huffed in exasperation. "Can we get back to the conversation at hand and leave the testosterone in the Quidditch locker room?" she demanded.

"Oye!" Katie Bell called out from where she was sitting with some of the other seventh year girls. "There are girls on the Quidditch team too!" Her comment prompted a lot of good natured teasing from the other students.

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I just want to know what happens if Lucius Malfoy tries to take all the seats on the Wizengamot?"

"He's not likely to be able to take all the seats," Harry told her, remembering something else Dumbledore had told him. "There's a Vampire Lord who's already taken one of the seats and I doubt Malfoy will want to duel against him. Also another werewolf has claimed a seat in Remus' name. And my sister-in-law, Diana, claimed a seat as well. If Malfoy challenged her, he'd have an army of Vikings hunting his blood." Actually, now that he thought about it, that might be rather entertaining to watch.

"Remus?" Hermione's eyes widened at the thought. "He holds a seat?"

"Wasn't his idea," Harry admitted. "But apparently that's legal as well."

"But werewolves don't have full citizenship rights," Hermione pointed out -- which Harry thought was a rather odd thing for her to say. She was usually the most vocal about the unfairness of such things.

"Well, technically Remus isn't a werewolf any more," Harry reminded her. "And besides -- the whole Right of Magic thing makes that issue rather moot at the moment."

The oddest look crossed Hermione's face. "So you're saying that anyone can take a seat on the Wizengamot just by dueling for it?"

Draco apparently heard more in her statement than the rest of them did for he stared at her in shock. "Don't even think about it!" he exclaimed. "They'd eat you alive!"

But Hermione just shrugged. "How hard could it be? You said it yourself -- they're just a bunch of bureaucrats. I'm more than capable."

Harry knew his mind was running a bit slow that day, but it sounded to him like Hermione was suggesting that she duel. Many of the other Gryffindor students were staring at her with something akin to awe. Draco on the other hand looked horrified. "The weakest of them will be weeded out by nightfall. You've never been in a duel before and they'll be dueling with both wand and sword! You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into. I don't care how smart you are -- you're only sixteen years old. And you know nothing about sword fighting."

"So teach me!" she insisted.

"It's not something you can learn in a week!" he protested.

"He's right, Hermione," Harry added, his brain starting to catch up with the conversation. "Severus has been teaching me the sword for months now, and I'm still only a novice." A sharp spike of emotion struck his heart at the thought of Severus, and he frowned, wondering at the source. But the fog swirled back in and swallowed it before he could probe too deeply, leaving only a pleasant calmness behind.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, apparently getting over his shock enough to finally protested. "You can't honestly be interested in dueling -- or in taking a seat on the Wizengamot?" Harry had to admit he was a bit at a loss for words as well.

"I'm serious," she stated. "If they want to revert back to the old ways -- fine. But they're going to have to face some rather painful facts. Blood doesn't mean anything. Apparently the Vampires and Werewolves have already brought this point home -- the Wizengamot won't be simply populated by purebloods. They're going to have to face the fact that there are mudbloods who are just as strong as they are. It's been four hundred years since the Vampires and Werewolves have had any say in our government. But it's been even worse for those who are Muggle born."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I did some research," she explained. "Do you know what a Muggleborn has to do in order to get a single vote in our elections? They have to earn two points in a test called Magical Acknowledgment. They can acquire the first point by passing a series of objective tests -- they're given ten very powerful spells to cast. If they cast them all successfully, they get one point. The second point comes from a two-thirds vote from the Wizengamot. In the last one hundred years, 329 Muggleborns have attempted to earn a vote. Guess how many actually succeeded in getting a vote?"

Ron and the others shook their heads, having no idea.

"Nine," Hermione told him. "Nine Muggleborns have gotten the vote out of 329 who applied." She glared at Draco who was about to make a comment. "And before you say anything, 298 of them successfully earned the first point. It was the two thirds vote from the Wizengamot they couldn't get. The nine who did receive their vote, only got them because Dumbledore openly advocated for them. If there is a chance I can change that, then I'm going to."

"You won't change anything," Draco informed her. "You'll end up dead."

"I didn't say I was going to run out today and challenge someone," Hermione stated. "But I'm not just going to ignore the opportunity. If I have to learn how to duel, then that's what I'll do."

"Surely things won't stay like this?" Lavender protested, speaking up for the first time. "I mean things will go back to normal soon, right?" They all looked at her, but no one answered.

"Why doesn't Harry just fix everything?" Dean cut in, looking somewhat exasperated by the rather political turn in the conversation. "I mean you can just. . . you know..." he waved his hand vaguely.

Harry frowned. "Arbitrarily start dictating laws and changing a form of government that has been in place since the time of Merlin?" he suggested.

Dean grinned. "Exactly."

"While I'm at it, why don't I also outlaw homework," Harry suggested. There were numerous cheers at that suggestions from all the other students eavesdropping on their conversation. Harry just groaned at the response.

"So I guess this means you're not up for our idea of writing 'this essay was officially approved by Harry Potter' at the top of all our papers, huh?" Seamus asked. "Just think of the look on McGonagall's face?"

Harry just smiled. That was the thing about Gryffindors. The more things changed -- the more they stayed exactly the same.

----------------------------

Harry looked exhausted by the time he returned to their quarters that evening. Severus had watched him closely at dinner. The Gryffindors all looked riled up about something, caught up in a heated debate about the current political situation at the Ministry. But Harry was largely silent through most of it, merely listening and watching the others talk.

The boy opted to turn in early that evening, heading to their bedroom immediately after dinner. Normally Severus never entered the room while Harry was preparing for bed -- he usually waited until he was certain the boy was asleep, granting him at least the illusion of privacy before following him to bed. But this night he only waited until Harry had left the bathroom, dressed once again in his preferred Muggle pajamas. The boy was still putting his clothing away and arranging his book bag with tomorrow's books when Severus gathered up his own night clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

He went through his nightly ablutions as quickly as possible, deliberately only wearing his pajama bottoms and forgoing his nightshirt. It was the way he preferred to sleep -- but over the last eight months he'd intentionally worn a nightshirt to bed in an effort to make Harry more comfortable with his presence. Despite the scars marring his body, tonight Severus wanted Harry to see his bare chest -- and more importantly, the Heartstone that hung around his neck.

He stared hard at himself in the bathroom mirror, a well of nervousness bubbling inside of him. Such an ugly face, he thought to himself, even if Harry did like his hair. For the first time in his life he found himself wish he looked more like his younger brother Julius. He had very little to commend himself to a young man like Harry. His past lovers had been attracted to his power or to his intelligence. But Harry had never appeared to place much value on intelligence -- and as for power, well, he could hardly lay claim to that any more. Harry had all the power he needed -- and Severus -- it seemed what powers he did have belonged to the Dark Lord. Which left him with what? A nasty temper, a sarcastic wit that very few people appreciated, and an excessive knowledge of potions -- which was certain to rank high with the Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindors.

He knew his body was well formed at least. That was something he supposed -- though the scars littering his skin were far from pleasant to look at, not to mention the fact that they practically screamed his Slytherin heritage. Gryffindors liked a good fight as much as the next person, but they didn't collect trophies of the blood-sports they participated in the way Slytherins did. The scars could hardly be a point in his favor.

His gaze moved to the Heartstone lying against his bare chest. He found it ironic that he could face down elder demons and death eaters without even hesitating, but this action he was about to take had him panicking. He'd been wearing the Heartstone for months, hidden from sight. The idea of admitting to that left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. It said far too much about how he felt, and it was a ridiculously sentimental thing to do. He could think of a dozen different people who would laugh themselves sick at the idea of Severus Snape doing something so utterly sappy. Severus felt his skin burn with embarrassment, and he raised his hand to grab the stone, impulse telling him to remove it before risking humiliation.

But the memory of the look in Harry's eyes earlier that day stilled his hand. It didn't matter what Harry thought of him; it didn't matter if he was mocked or teased for such sentimentality or even if Harry would go running to Black and Lupin or the rest of Gryffindor House to tell them of the bizarre behavior of the Head of Slytherin. What mattered was finding some way of easing the hurt he'd seen in Harry's eyes that afternoon when he'd believed he had tossed this gift aside like garbage. Somehow in Harry's mind this incident had become inexplicably linked to the childhood memory of what his Aunt had done to him, and breaking that link had to be worth any degree of embarrassment Severus might feel. He'd come to the conclusion that afternoon that he was lousy at relationships -- but if there was any way he could fix this one small hurt, he would do so.

Harry was sitting up in bed when he entered, holding an unopened vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught in his hands as if he were about to take it. He looked up as Severus approached, and his gaze zeroed in immediately on the Heartstone lying against Severus' bare chest. Those green eyes widened in shock at the sight and he turned his head swiftly to look at the open drawer of his nightstand from where he'd just removed the potion.

"You found it for me?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer. Harry just stared at him, looking confused. "The chain must have broken last night when I tore off my clothes." That one statement admitted so much.

He saw those words sink in as he climbed into bed beside Harry, and he knew he'd guessed correctly. His heart twisted in his chest at the sight of the emotion in those green eyes.

"Last night?" Harry repeated, the hurt in his eyes warring with the realization of what Severus was trying to say to him. "You've been wearing it? All this time?"

Severus raised a hand to touch the stone, feeling the magic pulse beneath his fingers. "Yes," he said simply.

A faint flush stole over Harry's features, a smile slowly curling his lips upward. He did not say anything, but instead bowed his head and stared down at his hands still holding the potion vial. He blinked rapidly as if fighting back emotion. Severus felt something in his heart ease, and he let out a slow sigh. Maybe he hadn't screwed things up as badly as he'd feared.

His gaze moved over Harry's features, taking in the flush of his skin, and the graceful line of his neck as he sat there with his head bowed, a smile on his lips. He resisted the impulse to reach out and touched his head, wanting to stroke his hair. After last night, he wasn't certain how any advance would be taken -- Harry had been quick enough to hug him that morning, but to Severus' mind Harry's reactions had been slightly off all day.

He glanced down at the potion vial in Harry's hands, wondering if perhaps he should take a dose himself this night. It might help curb the desire rising in him at Harry's proximity.

And then he noticed that both of Harry's hands were trembling. Severus frowned. It was very faint -- like shivers caused from the cold despite the fact that it was warm enough in the room. It almost reminded him of the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Are you all right, Harry?" he asked in concern.

Harry was still smiling as he nodded. "Yes, I'm green, Severus," he assured him.

It took a moment for his words to register in Severus' mind.

Green? Severus' heart skipped a beat.

"Did you just say you were green?"

"Well, the air is," Harry clarified, looking remarkably content by the observation. "Except for your voice. Your voice is gold. I really like your voice, Severus. Did I ever tell you that? And it's okay that it's a Gryffindor color, because Sirius' voice is blue -- so it all balances out in the end."

Alarm washed over Severus -- he could tell that Harry found nothing odd about what he was saying. "You're hearing colors, Harry?" he asked uncertainly. It wasn't unusual for people who had suffered the Cruciatus Curse to develop tremors and strange sensory glitches -- but as far as he knew Harry had not been hexed recently.

Harry looked up at him, seeming to think about his question for a moment. He frowned thoughtfully, and then hummed to himself as if musing about the answer. But rather than respond, he lay back, placing his head on his pillow and then stared curiously at the potion vial he was still holding in his hands. He looked distracted.

Heart pounding, Severus reached out and caught hold of Harry's chin, turning his face gently toward him. "Harry, look at me," he urged, frightened now. Those too-calm green eyes looked up, meeting his gaze, and Severus did something he had promised himself he would not do. He pushed his thoughts into Harry's mind.

He kept his mental touch as light and as gentle as he could, but even just brushing against Harry's surface thoughts, he knew something was wrong. Despite the outward calm, he encountered only chaos. Harry's thoughts were a mad jumble of images, swirling erratically around in his mind. At the forefront of that storm of images, there were only thoughts of the here and now -- brief moments that occasionally righted themselves and smoothed out before returning to chaos. And beyond that where his mind kept his memories and the more cognitive functions, he found a thick haze muting everything -- denying him full access to the very thoughts that should have kept Harry on edge all day.

No wonder he had been so calm all day -- it was like he'd been walking around in a fog, unable to really think about anything. But what in Merlin's name had caused such chaos -- Severus probed a bit deeper, seeking the source of the fog.

And then there, deep inside the young man's mind, Severus encountered a blackness -- something dark, and horrible, and filled with sharp edges like broken glass cutting at the smooth order of Harry's psyche. It was cold and endless, and pulled at Severus' soul like it wished to devour him. Horrified, Severus fled, pulling his thoughts back and letting the fog rush in again to cloud Harry's mind.

Closing his own eyes, Severus shuddered in fear -- he knew what that blackness was. There was only one thing it could be. He realized now that the fog was a defensive mechanism -- a way for Harry's mind to protect itself from that blackness sitting there in the center. They'd all seen Harry face down the Elder Demon yesterday, had seen him look it straight in the eyes, and they'd all blithely ignored the fact that no one could do such a thing without consequences. Harry had been injured yesterday -- as surely as if he'd been ripped wide open, and they'd all ignored the fact because somehow he'd managed to go on functioning anyway. He'd looked into the eyes of an Elder Demon, and it had looked back at him, had attacked his mind since it could not reach his body.

"Severus," Harry's voice caught his attention, and Severus opened his eyes swiftly. Harry was staring at his chest, a curious smile on his face. "Did you know that you're wearing my Heartstone?"

Severus shivered. "Yes, Harry," he said softly. "I know." He reached out and took the potion vial out of Harry's hands. Removing the stopper, he slid a hand beneath Harry's head, tilting his head up. "Drink your potion, Harry," he urged, placing the vial against the boy's lips.

Harry drank without protest, then settled back down on the pillow. He reached out and placed the palm of his hand against Severus chest -- for a moment he thought he was going to push him away. But instead, Harry merely traced his fingers over one of the numerous scars marring Severus' skin. A frisson of pleasure moved through Severus at the sensation, and his heart ached with emotion.

"It's much nicer here than the cupboard," Harry told him unexpectedly. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, Harry," Severus replied around the tightness in his throat. All day the boy's reactions had been off -- how could he not have seen it? He'd been bleeding out in front of them, and they had not noticed. He could only pray the damage was not irreversible.

"I don't tell you a lot of things," Harry sighed thoughtfully, though his eyelids were beginning to droop as the potion took hold of him. "That seems silly. I like it when you listen to me."

Severus stroked Harry's hair back from his forehead, uncovering the lightning bolt scar. For once it was not inflamed -- this wound had little to do with his connection to Voldemort. The boy sighed, leaning into his caress.

"Severus," he murmured again, nearly asleep.

"Yes, Harry?"

"You're warm," he said simply, his eyes closing. "I like that too."

His heart hurting, Severus chose to take that final statement as an invitation. He laid down, moving closer to Harry and wrapped his arms around his body. Closing his eyes, he followed Harry into a restless sleep, his own thoughts haunted by the realization that there were some things he could not protect the boy from.

--------------------

Author's notes:

The title of this chapter 'Synesthesia' refers to a mental disorder associated with the cross-wiring of your senses. People hear colors or smell sounds. And while I refer to it as a 'disorder', in some cases it is a natural ability that may be associated with artistic skill as well as advanced cognitive abilities. This can also happen when a brain is under stress -- migraines, brain damage, exhaustion, altered states. In the case of this story -- Harry is definitely experiencing some troubles -- you Lovecraft fans out there know that one does not look upon an elder god without suffering some sort of trauma. More will be explained in the next chapter.


	67. Chapter 67 Sharp Edges

Chapter 67-- Sharp Edges

Severus rose at the crack of dawn, dressed in silence and then headed up to the Headmaster's tower to retrieve the man's pensieve. While Albus was more than happy to loan it to him, when he asked why it was needed, Severus balked at telling him the truth.

It occurred to him in that instant exactly what his position in this world had become -- he was Harry's bondmate. That superseded all other bonds of loyalty. It was his duty to protect Harry at all cost, and while he didn't believe that the Headmaster was any threat to Harry, this was something that should ultimately remain private. The world needed to be able trust Harry absolutely, and Severus knew that Dumbledore believed that Harry was ultimately being guided by some greater force. Dumbledore's belief in that higher power was one of his main sources of strength. And Severus knew that Harry needed Dumbledore to be strong -- needed that perhaps more than anything.

"The Dark Mark," Severus blurted out in lieu of an answer. When Albus frowned, Severus elaborated. "I wanted to review the memory of my Marking. I don't remember it clearly and I can't help but wonder if there was any hint of what it truly meant."

"Do you believe you might find a way to remove it?" Albus asked curiously.

Severus just shrugged. "I don't know. But I have to find out if it is a threat to Harry -- if my bond to the Dark Lord is a danger to him." It was actually a good idea, Severus thought as he spoke the words. Perhaps there was something in the spell that created the Mark that would aid him in his search for knowledge.

Albus nodded, accepting his answer. "Good luck, my boy," he told him. "Let me know if you need anything."

Returning to his own quarters, Severus set up the pensieve on the coffee table in front of the fire. He also collected an unbreakable vial that could be used to store memories safely. He could only hope that this particular memory was retrievable -- and that removing it would do what he prayed it would do.

He didn't have long to wait. Harry, dressed and ready for the school day, emerged from their bedroom a short time later. He gave Severus a rather vacant smile as he headed automatically toward the tea pot near the hearth. The emptiness in that smile spoke volumes to Severus -- how could he have failed to see what Harry was going through yesterday? He cursed himself for not watching more closely.

"Harry, come here and sit down for a moment," Severus told him, motioning toward the couch in front of the coffee table where the pensieve was waiting. Though in the process of preparing his morning tea, Harry immediately abandoned the job and sat down on the couch. The fact that he didn't even hesitate to do so worried Severus. Harry had never been so agreeable.

Harry glanced briefly at the pensieve and blinked, momentarily looking thoughtful. But that expression faded back into the mild smile and he looked back up at Severus, waiting expectantly.

Frowning Severus sat down beside Harry. "Do you recognize this?" Severus asked, pointing at the stone pensieve. If nothing else the boy should be curious about it -- the stone bowl had elaborate carvings all over it and radiated a sense of magic.

"It looks like Dumbledore's pensieve," Harry replied, as if it were a common item.

"Right," Severus nodded. At least the boy was familiar with the object, though he was uncertain when he might have learned what it was. "You know that it is meant for storing memories, right?"

Harry nodded.

"I want you to put a memory in it for me, Harry," Severus continued.

Harry blinked at him, but had no further reaction. Frustrated, Severus frowned. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Severus," Harry nodded agreeably.

When he made no further move to do anything, Severus sighed and reached for Harry's left arm, pulling the boy's wand from the holster he wore beneath his shirt sleeve. He firmly placed the wand in Harry's right hand, noting the way the boy looked at it rather bemusedly. "Do you trust me, Harry?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded. "Of course, Severus."

"I want you to put a memory into the pensieve for me," Severus told him.

Harry's eyes flickered momentarily toward the stone bowl. "Why?"

Why? There was a loaded question if Severus had ever heard it. "You have a memory in your mind that is damaging you, Harry," he explained. "I want you to put it into the pensieve so that it can't hurt you any more."

"So I'll forget?" Harry asked, and then shook his head at the thought. Severus got the impression he wasn't shaking his head in denial, but because he was having difficulty focusing on the conversation.

"You won't forget," Severus told him. "You don't forget the memories that go into the pensieve. They always leave behind an impression -- like an after image. You can remember what happened, but the clarity -- the sharp edges of the memory -- are gone."

When Harry said nothing further, Severus reached out and gently titled his chin upward, turning his face toward him. "I want you to do exactly as I say," he said firmly, holding Harry's gaze with his own. While he made no effort to push his way into Harry's mind as he had last night, he made certain to let his magic pulse just enough to capture Harry's attention. "I want you to think about the Quidditch Pitch and the moment that Elder Demon attacked."

A flicker of emotion crossed over Harry's face before fading again. It was enough to let Severus know that the appropriate memories had churned to the surface of his thoughts -- even if only briefly. "You ran down the steps to meet it, to stop it. You raised your wand, you cast your spell -- do you remember?"

"King's Banishment," Harry whispered softly.

"Yes," Severus nodded, fighting his own rising emotions at the memory in his own head. "In that moment you looked into that creature's eyes. Remember that Harry -- remember that moment."

He saw it, the instant those memories surged to the surface of Harry's thoughts -- the very memory his own mind was trying so hard to protect him from. Horror flooded those green eyes. Firmly taking hold of Harry's right hand, which was clenched knuckle-tight around his wand, Severus helped the boy raise his wand to his temple. There was no spell needed -- in the presence of the pensieve the act of raising his wand to his temple was enough to trigger the necessary magic. The moment his wand made contact with the surface of his skin, the memory strand jumped to the tip.

Severus guided his wand downward to the pensieve, watching as the strand of memory drained from Harry's head -- pulled like a frayed thread from a piece of cloth. Touching the wand to the pensieve, the memory drained down into the waiting bowl -- but unlike most memories which were glowing silver strands of light, this memory was black. It sat in the bottom of the pensieve like some terrible shadow, swirling with blood-red eddies and currents.

For a moment Severus just stared at the pensive -- he'd never seen such a thing. It almost looked alive -- certainly exuded a living sense of dread.

"Is it supposed to be that color?" the sound of Harry's voice startled Severus -- not because he had spoken, but because of the tone. Severus glanced up at him swiftly. Those green eyes were sharp, hard, and finally -- finally -- aware. Gone was the fog that had kept Harry muffled and suppressed for the last several days. But along with the fog had gone the unnatural calmness as well. From one moment to the next, Harry had gone from placid smiles to a face lined with stress and pain.

"I don't know," Severus confessed -- he'd never seen a black memory, but then again he also didn't know a great deal about pensieves.

If anything Harry's face grew more tense, his lips thinning into a tight line as he nodded his head. He winced then, raising his hand to his temple and rubbing at it as if struck with sudden pain. Severus immediately jumped up from the couch and crossed the room to the sideboard. Opening one of the many drawers in the desk, he pulled out a small blue potion vial before returning to Harry's side and handing it to him. "For the headache," he explained.

Harry didn't even question it -- a testament to how bad his headache must be. Rather he pulled out the stopper and downed the potion in one gulp before closing his eyes and bowing his head.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked in concern.

To his surprise, the boy chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about the sound. "I'm sixteen years old and I can't get through a day without taking some sort of potion. No, I don't think I'm okay."

Severus didn't know how to respond to that. He was right of course -- there wasn't another student in the school who took as many potions as Harry did. While Severus had made certain that the Dreamless Sleep Draughts Harry took were non-addictive, it was not a good sign that he could barely sleep without them. At least now the boy sounded more like himself -- that baffling calm facade was finally gone.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the black shadow sitting in the pensieve. It was all Severus could do not to reach out to him, touch his shoulder or his hair or place his arm around his shoulder. Why was he so utterly incapable of offering comfort when it was something he so desperately wanted this young man to have?

"What do we do with it?" Harry asked tightly, watching the way the shadow moved in the bowl. The look of melancholy distaste on his face prompted Severus into action, and he pulled out his own wand, transferring the black memory strand to the unbreakable vial with the flick of his wrist. Another flick of his wand banished the memory vial to his office where he could dispose of it later.

Harry sighed heavily. "Thank you," he said, his voice hard with emotion. Severus knew he wasn't just being thanked for cleaning up the pensieve. "I couldn't breathe," the boy added. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Couldn't think," he corrected.

"I should have seen it earlier," Severus began, berating himself once again for not noticing what was happening.

But Harry just shook his head. "When was there time?" he asked. "When is there ever any time?" He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "This is what happened to him."

That last statement was spoken with such firm and awful conviction that it caught Severus completely off guard. "What?"

There was something raw and painful about Harry's gaze when he turned toward him. "Voldemort," he stated. "This is what happened to him. This is why he went mad."

It was a logical conclusion, but the implication behind it was alarming and Severus could only stare as Harry rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the room in agitation. "He summoned those creatures," Harry explained. "Over and over again -- he summoned them. He spoke to them. They got inside his head and now he's insane. And now it's happening to me!"

"No!" Severus interrupted before Harry could continue. "You're fine now! The memory is gone. You're fine."

But Harry shook his head, still pacing with a manic energy. "You said it yourself -- it leaves behind an afterimage. You think there will not be more of those things -- more demons before this war is over? How many can I face before even the afterimage is sharp and clear?"

"That won't happen!" Severus growled, his body stiff with tension.

Harry turned sharply toward him, his gaze piercing in its directness. "You won't let it happen," the young man confirmed, and then swiftly crossed the room, sitting down beside Severus once again. "You won't let it happen," he repeated. "You won't let me hurt anyone I love."

It took only a moment for Severus to realize that Harry was not expressing some blind belief in Severus' ability to aid him, but was instead giving him an order. "Harry?" he breathed, finding himself momentarily speechless.

"Promise me, Severus!" Harry exclaimed.

Severus stared at him -- just what exactly did he expect him to do? But that look of grim determination in those green eyes brought a horrified realization to Severus' heart. He shook his head in denial, but Harry cut off any protest he might have made. "You must promise me, Severus!"

"Damn it!" Severus snarled, and then rose to his feet, once again crossing to the side board and pulling out yet another potion -- this time a gold-tinted bottle. Returning to Harry's side, he held it out. "Drink it!" he ordered, knowing the boy would recognize the Calming Draught. "Drink it!" he shouted again when Harry did not move immediately to take it.

Sighing, Harry took the vial from him and downed it. He took a deep breath afterwards, and some of the lines of stress faded from his face. "Perhaps you should just get me a tin of lemon drops," Harry said after a moment.

"Perhaps I should," Severus agreed, once again sitting beside him. "Now you listen to me," he scolded. "It is not in your nature to give up. And I won't have you starting now."

Harry nodded his head slowly in acceptance, but there was such weariness in his face that Severus' heart hurt. It was as if the boy finally understood the burdens that had been placed upon him.

"You will keep watch, Severus," he said softly. It was not an order this time, but rather a plea. When Severus did not immediately answer him, Harry reached out and caught hold of his wrist. "I'm too strong, too power not to be watched. I've seen the way everyone else looks at me, even Dumbledore, as if there is something divine guiding my actions. As if I can do no wrong. It's not right for anyone to have that kind of power. If I should stumble. . ."

"Then I will catch you," Severus replied simply, and it seemed as if that simple promise was enough. Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. The boy's grip on his wrist eased for a moment as he slid his hand down, transferring his grip to Severus' hand.

At the contact Severus felt his heart quicken, his own fingers curling against Harry's palm. All the things he wanted to talk about, all the things that still stood unsaid between them, rose up in his mind. He still felt an overwhelming need to apologize for attacking Harry the other night -- did the boy remember that he had tried to apologize -- that he had seemingly forgiven him? Did he remember anything at all that had been said these last few days -- had any of it meant anything under the circumstances? And what of the Heartstone? Did Harry remember that he wore it around his neck -- had he even paused to wonder what such a thing might mean?

"Harry," he began, trying to find some way of beginning the dozen different conversations he felt they desperately needed to have. But his words were cut off by a firm knock at their portrait door and Severus bit back a curse of frustration at the interruption. Why was there never any time!

Frowning, he rose and went to answer the door, intent on getting rid of who ever decided to disturb them. Breakfast was only just starting in the Great Hall, and it was a bit early yet for visitors.

Albus, Remus and Sirius were waiting outside in the hallway, all three men dressed far differently than Severus would have expected on a Monday morning. While Albus was not wearing the plum-colored robes of a member of the Wizengamot, he had donned the silver medallion that showed his rank as the Chief Warlock of that council. And Sirius and Remus were dressed far more formally than they typically did -- both men wearing new, well-tailored surcoats along with the armored hardened leather they might wear into battle. Sirius was also wearing a sword, slung from his belt in a gem-encrusted scabbard. Severus recognized the Black Crest upon the pommel.

Stepping aside, he let the three men into his quarters, guessing that something was up.

"The Ministry floos have been reopened," Albus explained, seeing the questioning look on both Severus' and Harry's faces. "The Wizengamot has requested your presence, Harry."

Severus felt his stomach churn at the thought. He knew of course that this was inevitable -- they could not keep the rest of the world at bay indefinitely. But he didn't like the idea of facing such an unknown -- and the Ministry had always been an unknown. Now with the chaos they'd recently endured, things were more uncertain than ever.

"I see," Harry sighed.

All four of them heard volumes in those two simple words. Sirius stepped toward his godson immediately. "It's your decision, Harry," he assured him. "Whatever you decide, we'll all back you."

A faint smile touched the boy's lips, but unlike the vapid smiles of yesterday this one was laced through with weariness. "So I am faced with a decision -- to remain safely here in Hogwarts and openly defy my government, or to go to the Ministry and face the music."

Severus glanced at Albus, wondering what he thought they should do, but the old man was staring calming at Harry as if secure in the knowledge that whatever decision the boy made, it would be the right one. Severus felt his heart tightened -- Harry had been right about the way the world now looked at him.

"Well," Harry replied after a moment of thought. "I guess if I'm going to face the music, it's time I learned how to dance."

Severus sighed. He could have guessed which choice the boy would make -- he was still a Gryffindor after all. "If you're going to learn how to dance, we'll need to change our clothing first," Severus informed him. So much for a normal day of classes.

"Charlie Weasley will cover your classes, Severus," Albus replied happily, indicating that like Severus he too knew what decision Harry would ultimately make. Severus' just groaned -- a Weasley, teaching potions. It really was the end of the world. He sighed regretfully -- he supposed his conversation with Harry would have to wait a while longer.

-------

An hour later the five of them along with Alrik, who wanted to check on his wife, flooed through to the Ministry of Magic. Like Sirius, both Severus and Alrik were armed with swords -- the meetings ahead of them were too important for them to forgo such a formality, not to mention the fact that weapons might also prove to be a necessity. If Lucius Malfoy was issuing duels, who knew what they would yet face before them?

Much like the last time they had visited the Ministry, the floo corridor was crowded with people, dozens of red clad Aurors holding a path clear for them. Like before the moment the boy stepped free of the fireplace a mob of reporters began shouting questions at him as flash bulbs went off. But no sooner had the shouting started when ten Aurors, led by an enormously tall man, drew their wands, and struck the whole mob of reporters with a powerful silencing charm.

Severus recognized the tall man as as the Head of the Auror Corp -- Maxwell Darmut. The older man turned a withering glare on the silenced mob. "I warned you," he shouted at them, his voice harsh and gruff. "Until you can conduct yourselves as proper journalist instead of mimicking the Muggle Paparazzi, you'll remain silenced."

The group of reporters looked outraged, though most of the Aurors looked highly amused. Severus had to admit to a great deal of amusement too -- it wasn't so long ago that the reporters of their world behaved in a much more respectful manner. The Muggle habits they had picked up in recent years disgusted most Wizards.

"My apologies," Darmut said to all of them. He inclined his head rather formally to all of them, his gaze lingering briefly on Sirius Black. Black just stared back rather defiantly as if daring any of the Aurors present to say something against him. It occurred to Severus that bringing Black with them might have been tempting fate -- it wasn't so much he thought any law could overturn Harry's declaration of innocence, but rather that Black would be unable to contain the resentment he must have felt at having been falsely imprisoned.

Darmut however quickly turned his attention back to Harry and Dumbledore. "If you follow me, I'll take you to the Wizengamot." That the head of the Auror Corp was acting as their personal escort spoke volumes to everyone there.

The Aurors closed ranks in around them, ushering them down the hall toward the elevators. As they walked, Severus saw Stark and Shacklebolt falling into step behind them, obviously intending to act as a rear guard if needed. Along with the reporters and the Aurors, hundred of other people -- ministry workers and visitors -- strained to get a glimpse of Harry as they passed down the hall. After Darmut's actions with the reporters, the crowd refrained from shouting, but loud murmurs and whispers followed them as they walked.

Darmut, Stark and Shacklebolt stepped into the elevator with them, and once the door slid shut Darmut turned his attention to Dumbledore. "I'm glad you're here, Albus," the tall man said. We're all anxious to have the rule of order restored according to the law books."

"How do thing stand?" Albus asked.

"As far as we known, Lucius Malfoy has removed ten people from the Wizengamot -- all of them strong supporters of Fudge. Between Malfoy and the others who took council seats in duels, the others are afraid to speak out at all. They're all waiting for you to arrive."

"Anyone killed?" Albus asked with a frown.

"No," Darmut answered. "And that's surprising to all of us. Malfoy isn't known for his restraint."

"What about my wife?" Alrik asked in concern.

Darmut gave him a wry smile. "Lady Brand? She'd been here speaking on behalf of the Winter Lands and had been having a great deal of trouble with one of the Wizengamot members -- Lord Marlot. Once the duels started she drew her wand and hexed Marlot unconscious because he insulted her -- which gave her his seat by default. No one else has contested the point."

Alrik smirked at that and shot Severus an amused look. Severus just sighed -- his sister had always been mild-tempered, but she had never reacted well to a direct insult.

"Regardless," Darmut continued. "Those that have lost their seats fully expect you, Albus, to restore them to their positions -- though as I understand the rule of law, the duels are legal."

Albus nodded in agreement. "Lucius knows the law as well if not better than most people. The only way I can restore their positions would be by dueling Lucius and then reappointing them." There was no indication in the tone of his voice what he thought of that idea.

"They also need a formal vote on the arrest of Minister Fudge, as well as a vote on a interim Minister appointment -- without a seated Minister, there is no direct chain of command to the Auror Corp which means that within ten days I will legally be required to either disband the Auror Corp or declare Martial Law."

Severus frowned at that, exchanging startled glances with his companions. He was not an expert on the law, but even he knew that either option would be unpleasant. Without the Auror Corp, the Wizengamot would lose their basis of power and be left utterly at the mercy of those members who could raise their own reinforcements. And the standing rules of Martial Law were rather harsh and archaic and would likely cause enough disruption that it too would leave them vulnerable to abuse.

"Why do they want me here?" Harry asked, startling them all. Darmut glanced at Harry in surprise, and the boy shrugged. "I can see why they summoned the Headmaster. They need him to regain order. But what have they summoned me for?"

Darmut glanced uncertainly over at Dumbledore who just nodded his head in response, urging the man to explain. "That's simple, Mr. Potter," Darmut replied. "They want your blessing. The Ministry of Magic has screwed up very badly -- more so than any of you yet realize. Without your blessing, the government will lose the confidence of the people. And since it looks like we may be on the brink of some sort of demonic war, that would be a very bad thing indeed."

------

Author's Note: I'm sorry I've been gone so long. I'm terribly upset that I left so many people in tears over my absence!! I had posted on my group that I would be gone for a while, but I was gone longer than I intended. I went away on vacation for two weeks and then had company visiting during the following weeks. I'm afraid that during most of this time I did not have any access to a computer for more than a few minutes or so. Instead I have been writing my chapters out on a notebook by hand -- which is much slower than I'm used to. That also means I have to retype everything onto the computer later -- which is more work than I realized!

In any event, I'm trying to get back to the computer now on a more regular schedule. I've two more chapters to post today -- I thought I'd post them both together since oddly enough both of them are in the view point of Lucius Malfoy. Sorry there is so little Snary interaction in any of these -- the plot seems to be getting in the way. . .sigh. . . Bare with me -- we'll get there soon.


	68. Chapter 68 The Pursuit of Power

Chapter 68 The Pursuit of Power

Lucius had been at a home when word of the attack on Hogwarts had reached him. Knowing that people had died and that his son had been in the stadium had sent both Lucius and Narcissa hurrying to the castle to find out the fate of Draco. Though he had hidden it, Lucius had been frightened -- he was not a kind man, or a good man, but he had no desire to lose his son to some madman's violence. He wasn't entirely certain why Narcissa had followed him -- she had never been particularly maternal.

The chaos that had greeted them had alarmed them both. Despite this it had been easy enough to learn of the events on the Quidditch Pitch. Those uninjured were more than happy to recount the story in minute detail.

That Voldemort had summoned an Elder Demon had not surprised him -- the man had long since past any level of sanity as far as Lucius was concerned. But the rest of the story left Lucius' mind reeling -- person after person told the remarkable story of Harry Potter's heroic actions and his use of the King's Banishment spell. They all spoke of the rise of a new king in the Wizarding World.

He had searched for his son amongst the crowds only to learn eventually that Draco had been one of the people on the field standing beside Harry Potter and his followers. Considering the almost reverent way that everyone was speaking about the lot of them, he knew he'd never be allowed past Dumbledore's guards to see his son. He wasn't certain what he thought of his son's actions -- certainly it was out of character. But at least he was relieved to hear he was still alive. Narcissa had a few choice words to say about Gryffindors and how their idiocy must have rubbed off on Draco. But he couldn't help but think that Draco would come out of this situation far more elevated in rank than his marriage to Charlie would ever afford him. Indeed he suspected the entire Weasley family had just risen in status far above his own.

Eventually he and Narcissa had returned home, and there Lucius began to hear a bell toling far in the distance.

It was several hours before he came to understand exactly what it was he was hearing, and hours more before he understood what it meant. By the time he realized that the Dark Mark upon his arm would prevent him from answer the Call he was far into madness. He had driven Narcissa into hiding. She locked herself in her rooms and refused to come out.

The pain in his arm was horrible, but he'd survived pain before. Far worse was the terrible rage he felt at being denied his proper place in the world. His whole life had been spent in the pursuit of power and here it was at his fingertips and the Dark Lord was preventing him from grasping it. Never before had he felt such hatred toward the man, or regretted so greatly his decision to swear himself to his cause. The man had betrayed them all, and Lucius was utterly powerless to do anything about it.

Over the course of that fateful night, he'd destroyed the West Wing of the manor -- it would take months of rebuilding before all his hex damage was repaired.

He spent the early hours before dawn in the bed of his current mistress and had exhausted her into a state of unconsciousness before too long. When he'd awakened hours later still enraged but at last once again in control of himself, he'd found himself looking at the girl asleep beside him as if he'd never seen her before.

It wasn't the numerous bruises and marks he'd left upon her body that so captivated him -- rather it was her dark hair and slender build. Both traits went against his normal tastes. He'd always preferred blonds; there was a reason he had chosen Narcissa for his wife when he could just as easily have taken Bellatrix. And he had always preferred his women to be far more voluptuous -- at the very least well endowed. This girl was anything but curvy -- her body was athletic and quite slim, her chest nearly flat. Yet he'd kept her at his side for several months now despite these facts. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd been so drawn to her.

And then she'd rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes, and in a blinding flash of insight he'd had his answer. Lucius had climbed swiftly out of bed, shocked at himself. Her eyes were green -- brilliant, emerald green. If he were to draw a scar upon her forehead she might pass for Harry Potter's sister.

She said nothing as he had gathered up his clothing. Considering how roughly he had used her last night, he suspected she was too leery of drawing his attention back to her to risk speaking. He couldn't help but think about the way he had taken her last night -- she could have been male and he would not have noticed. It didn't bare further examination -- at least not now.

Determined to learn what state the world lay in and whether or not anyone had discovered some reason for Voldemort's actions, Lucius had headed immediately for the Ministry of Magic. But shortly after he had arrived, things had quickly snowballed out of control.

Fudge had been screaming for the arrest of Harry Potter and Sirius Black, demanding that the Wizengamot and the Aurors act on his orders immediately. The Wizengamot reacted much as they usually did in such circumstances -- they wanted to argue, discuss, and form a committee. The Aurors on the other hand had outright refused the orders, and that was when Fudge had done the unforgivable -- he'd sent for the Muggle authorities.

The decision to lock down the building had come from a dozen different people -- all panicking that after all this time their presence would be revealed to the Muggle World. While the building was being locked down, and Fudge was being taken into custody for his very obvious nervous breakdown, Lucius had taken advantage of the chaos and had searched the Minister's office. There he had learned a large number of rather alarming things which had driven him to make a fateful decision which would alter the course of his life.

He'd known for a while now that he had no future with Voldemort. Even though he did not truly believe that the Potter boy had any hope against him, he suspected a world under Voldemort's rule would not be worth living in. Knowing now what had been taken from him, he was even more determined to find some way of stabbing that traitorous creature in the back before the end came.

And now with this talk of Kingship he was even more determined than ever to switch sides. Perhaps there was even some cause to hope that Potter might again do the impossible and win the war. If nothing else his son, Draco, certainly had the opportunity to play some role in things ahead.

He knew the law better than most members of the Wizengamot and had taken advantage of the situation immediately -- systematically eliminating Fudge's strongest supporters. Knowing that Potter and Dumbledore would never condone his position if he killed to get it, he overcame his natural instincts and merely stunned his opponents, though there were several that he would have been quite happy to kill. Professional politicians were some of the most annoying people on the planet.

But no sooner had he finished his first duel when Valerian Ventus had issued a challenge to a rather prominent member of the Wizengamot in the name of the Vampire Lord Aventine. Lucius knew the significance of the seat Aventine took -- as well as the one Merik Volpine took moments later. Both seats had formerly belonged to the Vampire and Werewolf clans over four hundred years ago. Lucius had some definite ideas about Vampires and Werewolves and their proper place in the world -- but in this instance he was caught between his prejudice and necessity. To duel with either man without first knowing a bit more about their fighting styles, was too great a risk. He couldn't afford a loss at this point.

There was the added issue of Potter's own view of Werewolves. Lucius knew Potter's biggest issue with him would be his recent treatment of Remus Lupin. That would be the hardest hurdle he would have to overcome.

As it was all three men eyed each other during a brief lull in the activities, each sizing each other up. They all seemed to come to the same conclusion and silently agreed to avoid one another for the moment.

Diana Snape Brand was easier to deal with. Lucius had no desire to cross her -- she was a pure blood from a good family and the sister-in-law of Potter. Treating her respectfully could only aid his cause in this instance.

The only major issue had been with the Aurors. He'd known of course that with Fudge's arrest and the ensuing upheaval, the Auror Corp would refuse any direct actions and bide their time. So long as no overt laws were broken, they would not feel pressured to intervene. While dueling was perfectly legal, had Lucius or one of the others killed their opponents the Aurors would have put a stop to it immediately. As it stood now, they could afford to wait and see what happened. Ultimately they were all waiting on two people -- Dumbledore, the senior member and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Harry Potter. Those two men alone would decide the fate of their government and they all knew it.

Now a day later, they were all awaiting the arrival of the two men in question. Lucius had managed to get a few hours of sleep in a nearby office and was pacing somewhat nervously across the floor of the Wizengamot's chambers. Those members who still retained their seats were in place on the raised platform of the high gallery; the deposed members were waiting uncertainly in seats scattered throughout the arena viewing gallery. Lucius supposed they where hoping that Dumbledore would reinstate them, but he had no intention of going anywhere, and rather suspected that neither did Volpine or Ventus.

He had noticed a cloaked and hooded figure entering the gallery a few minutes ago and nod rather pointedly to Ventus. Lucius suspected that if he peered beneath that hood he would see the red eyes of the Vampire Lord Aventine, and he shivered in spite of himself, not certain how to react to this turn of events. Who would have thought he would ever see the day that a Vampire would risk walking openly into the Ministry of Magic in broad day light? The Aurors had a standing kill order for Vampires -- they were allowed to literally kill first and ask questions later. Lucius couldn't help but wonder if Aventine knew something he did not -- to have taken such a risk as to come here in person seemed extreme. He wondered how Potter would react to the situation.

Word came that Potter and Dumbledore would be arriving shortly, and Lucius braced himself to face what was ahead. Word had also come of the arrival of foreign heads of state who were demanding an audience with Harry Potter. Even now ambassadors from all over the world were flooing into the Ministry. But all of those in the Wizengamot chamber were in universal agreement that until their authority was confirmed they would not deal with outside governments. There were too many governments who would happily take advantage of the situation simply to gain control over Britain.

The door to the chamber opened suddenly and Lucius turned to see Darmut leading in the men of the hour. Dumbledore entered first, nodding rather amicably to all those assembled. Lucius heard a rather loud sigh of relief at the sight of that familiar white-haired form, and he couldn't help the faint twist of a smile that crossed his own lips. Dumbledore had always refused any of the numerous honors the Wizarding World wanted to heap upon -- how many times had he been asked to run for Minister of Magic only to turn it down? He preferred his quiet position at Hogwarts, but there were few people with any delusions about who ultimately held power in this world.

Behind Albus walked Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and Lucius stiffened as he met the cold gaze of the Head of the House of Black. What an unexpected meeting this was -- Black's sudden freedom had not sat well with Narcissa at all -- though he had wondered at that. Narcissa had been the one who had suggested Black as Draco's future mate, despite Lucius' misgivings about the rumored link between Black and the Werewolf Lupin. But Narcissa had assured him that any bond between her cousin and Lupin had been fraternal -- Lucius hadn't been so willing to chance such a thing, especially after Severus' declaration that the two of them were all but mated, and so had taken legal action to protect his son.

But now seeing the glare Black was throwing him, and the equally baleful gaze of the Werewolf beside him, Lucius feared he was facing an uphill battle ahead of himself. He noticed the sword resting at Black's side -- it had been years since he'd crossed blades with one of the Blacks. Legally Black had no grounds for a duel, his marriage offer had been an honorable one-- but then amongst the Darker families, legalities rarely mattered.

Severus' Viking brother-in-law entered next, and crossed the room to speak quietly with his wife. Lord Marlot, the man she had hexed, sat in the viewing gallery nearby watching with bitter eyes. Truthfully, Lucius had never cared for Marlot -- though easily bribed and turned to his purpose, Lucius found the man weak and annoying.

And then Potter and Snape entered the room, drawing all eyes toward them, and Lucius found himself sucking in his breath in surprise. He had not seen Harry Potter since Draco's marriage on Valentine's Day. He'd been impressed back then by the power the young man exuded -- but now it was so much more noticeable. Lucius knew in the instant he laid eyes on him that this was the young man who had triggered the Call. Everything he had wanted to find in his service to Voldemort was here before him -- power, prestige, and unexpectedly a link to Ancient Magicks that had all but vanished from the world. To find himself foolishly on the opposite side of this young man instead of standing beside him like Severus was nearly unbearable.

Lucius' eyes narrowed as he took in the dark form of his old friend -- Severus Snape was glaring hard at him. No doubt the man knew exactly what Lucius was planning and did not trust him a bit. Severus would have been Called as well, he realized -- had he been able to answer the Call? Or had the Dark Mark kept him from his bondmate's side as well? He never thought the day would come when he would envy Severus' position.

As it was Lucius was glad he had been standing when Potter entered the room, for the young man's entrance sparked strange reactions from everyone. There were those amongst the view gallery who did not even hesitate -- Lady Brand, Volpine, Ventus, even the cloaked Aventine rose immediately to their feet. Others startled for a moment as if uncertain what they were seeing and then swiftly stood. But there were a small handful -- most of those whom Lucius had removed from office as well as few others-- who pointedly stayed seated.

"Albus, it's good to see you," Madam Bones called, standing before her chair on the main platform. She'd been remarkably quiet of late, though that might have something to do with the fact that the seats on either side of her were currently empty -- each taken by Lucius in a duel. He suspected that the older woman would ultimately speak out against him, but he also believed that if there was any one Ministry candidate that Potter intended to support it would be Amelia Bones. Leaving her in her position was a calculated risk.

"Amelia," Dumbledore greeted with a smile. "I'm glad to see you." He glanced at Lucius as he said this, and Lucius knew he'd been right to leave the older woman alone. Dumbledore would not have been happy if anything had happened to her.

"Albus," Lucius said with a nod of his head. "No doubt you wish to get down to business. . . provided this assembly is capable of coming to order." He swept his gaze rather pointedly over those members who were still seated. He intended to make a point with this first statement. "It would seem some members have forgotten their heritage."

His words sparked a quiet murmur through the room as the other members of the Wizengamot turned glares on the still seated members. For once Albus Dumbledore made no effort to forgo this formality, and Potter, whom Lucius had been led to believe hated the attention, remained silent as well. He did see the young man's sharp gaze studying him intently, however, his expression unreadable. Lucius thought it rather surprising to find a Gryffindor so hard to read -- did he see this move as calculated or as genuine respect for their customs? Lucius couldn't tell.

Nonetheless, under the glares of the others, those still sitting rose to their feet, looking strangely uncertain about the situation.

Once everyone was standing, Dumbledore inclined his head to Lucius, his eyes twinkling with some quiet amusement. "As to a point of order, it would seem we are currently without a Minister," Dumbledore said as he moved up the center staircase to take his rarely used seat in the high gallery. Darmut also took his seat as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Seats had already been reserved nearby for Potter and the others, and while Lucius remained in his place on the main floor of the gallery, the others all waited for both Dumbledore and Potter to sit before returning to their own seats. The distinctive pause was not lost on Potter but once again his face betrayed no emotion.

"Am I to assume you mean to act as Undersecretary today, Lucius?" Dumbledore continued, nodding pointedly to the seat next to Madam Bones which was normally occupied by the Minister's Undersecretary, Madam Umbridge who was sitting off to one side with the other deposed members of the Wizengamot.

"If you would prefer Madam Bones, I have no objection," Lucius offered graciously. He did not care for the normally long-winded formalities of parliament, but if it would make everyone present more comfortable, he was not going to object.

Surprisingly Madam Bones waved him off. "As the majority of the charges against Cornelius Fudge come from you, Lucius, I see no reason to belabor the point. You might as well proceed with the evidence."

"Are we to have a trial then?" Dumbledore asked in surprise. Fudge was rather pointedly missing from the room.

But Madam Bones shook her head. "I think the point is merely to prove the validity of the charges against Cornelius Fudge so that we can confirm that the removal of the Minister was legally done," she explained. "As he will be facing the death penalty for high treason, a trial will have to wait until a further date." Her announcement caused a murmur of surprise throughout the room, and Dumbledore frowned deeply, peering over his glasses at Lucius with a most pointed stare.

"High treason, Lucius?" he asked.

Lucius inclined his head. "If I may forgo the formalities of reading the charges and present a summation of the evidence, you can go over the evidence in detail at your leisure."

Dumbledore's frown did not fade, but he nodded his head in acceptance. Lucius cross the room and picked up the stack of papers he had left on the court reporter's table. "You are familiar with the Wizarding Registration Act," he stated.

The look of surprise that crossed Dumbledore's face amused Lucius -- no doubt he had expected him to speak of Fudge's negligence in regards to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "I know it has very little support amongst the Wizengamot."

"Are you also familiar with Stage Two of the Registration Act?" Lucius asked.

Albus' eyes narrowed at that, and he glanced over at Madam Bones in question. "I was unaware of any stages beyond the initial registration."

Lucius flicked his wand and levitated the documents in his hand up toward Dumbledore. "These are the original documents taken from Minister Fudge's office. As you can see they are already signed by both Minister Fudge and the Muggle Prime Minister. Stage Two is clearly spelled out."

Taking the documents Albus began to leaf through them. Everyone watched in silence as the old man flipped through the papers. "Mandatory vaccinations!" he exclaimed when he came to the appropriate page. "These are not the documents given to the Wizengamot or to the Wizarding Public."

Lucius nodded in agreement, a satisfied smile touching his lips. That fact alone was enough to have Cornelius removed from office without any further damning evidence. But he saw no reason why he should not also kill the Registration Act once and for all while the opportunity presented itself. Certainly he had everyone's attention now and there was no telling how the rest of this day would play out. He might not have another opportunity like this one. He wished he'd had the chance to speak with his son -- perhaps Draco had some idea where Potter might stand on certain issues.

"And as I said they have already been signed despite the fact that the Wizengamot has not yet voted on them," Lucius added,. "The Wizarding Registration Act requires all Wizards to register with the Muggle Census Office. What was unknown was that upon registration we would all be required to get vaccinations that all Muggles receive in childhood. These include vaccinations against mumps, measles, polio and numerous other Muggle illnesses that as Wizard we are immune to."

Lucius noted the quiet murmurs exchanged between Potter and Lupin, not to mention the way Severus' gaze flicked towards both of them.

"While I admit this news is most alarming," Dumbledore stated. "And it is disturbing to note that this is not the first time the Wizengamot has received faulty or incomplete documents," he glanced pointedly toward Alrik at that. "But it hardly warrants the Death Penalty."

"By itself no," Lucius agreed. He sent yet another stack of papers levitating up toward Albus, keeping one scroll in his hand. "As you can see in the following documents Minister Fudge has been aiding the Muggle government in collecting large quantities of potion ingredients." He crossed the room and held out the scroll to Severus Snape. "Severus, perhaps you could share your expertise and inform the assembly what the following formula would produce." He figured a little bit of flattery would not hurt his cause.

Frowning in curiosity, Severus took the scroll and unfurled it, reading over the contents. While the list of ingredients on the document were not overtly magical, they were difficult to obtain in the Muggle World. Lucius also knew that no magic was required to make the potion listed in the formula, thus making it one of the few potions a Muggle could produce with little difficultly simply by following the required recipe.

"It's a substandard treatment for Bowtruckle Fever," Severus remarked. A murmur of surprise spread through the room. While Bowtruckle Fever was not a common ailment, there had been a large outbreak of it a hundred years ago -- most people had at least an inkling of what it was. Lucius however could see by the look on Potter's face that he did not.

"And could you explain what Bowtruckle Fever is and why this treatment would be substandard," Lucius urged.

Severus glanced briefly over at Potter as if understanding that his explanation was intended for him. "Bowtruckle Fever is a rare illness brought about by prolonged exposure to the remains of a Bowtruckle poisoned by a Hybredian Viper Weed. While there is no known cure to the illness, its symptoms can be managed by a monthly consumption of a potion -- failure to get treatment results in severe fever and eventual death. As for this," he held up the scroll. "The reason it is substandard is because the potion base is narcotic which would make it highly addictive."

"And what would be the narcotic effect?" Lucius asked.

Severus shook his head. "Severe lassitude, drowsiness, apathy, leaving the patient vulnerable to suggestion."

Satisfied that Severus had adequately explained, Lucius turned with a flare to face Dumbledore once again. "Despite the fact that Bowtruckle Fever is extremely rare, and only contractible by Wizards, the Muggle government with the aid of Minister Fudge has been stock-piling large quantities of this potion." He could see by the look in the man's eyes that he had connected the dots. "It is my belief that along with their useless vaccinations, the Muggle government also intended to infect the Wizarding population with Bowtruckle Fever. They would then miraculously produce enough potion to save us -- but it would leave us weak and compliant and completely at their mercy. They would have had total control of the majority of our population in a matter of weeks."

Dumbledore looked genuinely shocked by this statement and turned toward Darmut and Madam Bones for confirmation. Darmut just nodded his head in acknowledgment, a rather pained expression on his face. Lucius knew it was a sore point with him that this had gone on under his nose. "It's true, Albus," he stated. "We found some rather damning correspondence in the Minister's office suggesting that very thing. At best it is enough to ensure a trial using Veritaserum."

"The false documents alone are enough to ensure removal from office," Albus stated after a few moments of silence. "Under these circumstances we have no choice but to strip Cornelius Fudge of his title and hold him for trial."

Lucius smiled as Dumbledore's words sank in and murmurs of both agreement and dissent spread through the room. Dumbledore's words had not only officially removed Fudge from office, but validated the reversion to the Right of Magic -- making Lucius' and the others' claims to their seats legitimate.

"And what about our positions!" Lord Bernoit demanded, leaping to his feet. He was one of the first people Lucius had removed from office. "You can't mean to let Malfoy's behavior stand?"

"And what about them!" Madam Umbridge demanded pointing to Ventus and Volpine. "They can't hold positions on the Wizengamot -- Werewolves and Vampires don't have full citizenship rights."

"And what about her!" Marlot shouted pointing to Lady Brand. "The Winter Lands aren't even part of Britain any more -- she can't hold a seat on their behalf."

"By law all seats on the Wizengamot are currently held by Right of Magic," Dumbledore told them all. "That means that the only way for you gain back your seats is by dueling for them."

"Then appoint an interim Minister so that things can go back to the way they were before," Umbridge demanded.

Albus just sighed at the suggestion. "That wouldn't restore your positions. Seats held by Right of Magic can not be rescinded save by intervention from the International Confederation of Wizards. Their claims would stand."

"Or the intervention of Harry Potter," Bernoit claimed gleefully, glaring across the room at Lucius.

Lucius sneered at him; he had know of course that his might happen. "Considering how many of you openly supported the Registration Act, I would not be so quick to reenter public office," Lucius informed him coolly. It was his hope that Potter would refuse to participate in the proceedings -- he knew he had little hope of gaining the young man's support. If they were forced to deal with the Confederation, Lucius believed he could delay any proceedings for months if not years if necessary.

Bernoit sputtered in outrage at Lucius' insinuation of guilt, but several others, Madam Umbridge included, exchanged furtive looks at the suggestion.

"Harry Potter can indeed pass judgment on this issue," Dumbledore informed the group, and whispers of excitement spread through the room. Potter, surprisingly, remained emotionless, his face unreadable. "However I must inform you that if he is asked to do this, the Confederation can not later intervene. Mr. Potter's decision will stand. It takes a two thirds vote from the current members of the Wizengamot to make such a request. Please indicate your desire with your wand."

There were several people amongst the group that did not hesitate. Surprisingly Darmut was one of the first to raise his wand and light the tip with a lumos. Ventus and Lady Brand quickly followed. At their action a glowing tally of the vote appeared in the center of the room, changing as various other members of the group raised their wands. Bernoit grinned almost gleefully, figuring he had Lucius right where he wanted him.

Volpine nodded rather pointedly toward Remus Lupin indicating that he should make the decision himself. Lupin shot Potter a rather apologetic look before he too raised his wand and added his vote to the total.

Lucius knew that even without his ten votes they would easily have the two thirds required to make the request. It would seem he had one last statement to make before this was over -- perhaps he would not be able to continue with the Wizengamot, but he had long decided that his future no longer lay down the path he had formerly walked. If he could not continue with the Wizengamot, perhaps he could still manage to convince Potter of his intention to stand against Voldemort. With a sigh he raised his wand and sent his vote toward the tally as well -- all ten of them.

He noted the looks of surprise sent his direction and felt somewhat gratified that he still had such ability to disturb people. Let them wonder what he was up to -- though he rather suspected Severus had already figured it out. The man looked rather annoyed.

"The motion is carried," Dumbledore announced when the last vote was in. They had well over two thirds majority. He turned a gentle smile toward Harry Potter and a hush fell over the room. "I do apologize for putting you on the spot like this, Harry," Dumbledore told him as the young man raised his face and met the old man's gaze. "I have complete faith in your judgment."

A strange emotion flickered through the young man's green eyes at that statement and he exchanged a rather odd look with Severus Snape. Severus for his part remained stoic and Potter sighed and rose slowly to his feet.


	69. Chapter 69 Down this Road

Chapter 69 Down this Road

Lucius, still standing on the main floor on the far side of the chamber, felt a strange pulse of magic move through the room as Potter joined him on the floor. A shiver of anticipation went through him, and he wondered if anyone else had felt the sensation -- certainly every eye in the room was riveted on the slender, green-eyed young man before them. Instead of a traditional robe he was wearing a dark red surcoat, the color proclaiming his Gryffindor heritage, and despite the seriousness of the situation Lucius could not help the way his eyes roamed over the young man's slender form. It was not the male shape that so completely captivated him but rather the power he could feel contained inside his form. How had Severus Snape of all people come to be in possession of such a creature -- Lucius felt the envy stir inside him once again.

Potter stared momentarily down at the floor, his head cocked to one side as if listening to something in the stillness. And then he raised his head and swept his gaze over the room, pausing on Diana Brand. "Lady Brand, do you want this position?" he asked quietly, surprising everyone. They had expected him to merely confirm or deny the seats.

Diana glanced briefly over at her husband who was grinning in amusement at the turn of events. The almost fanatical devotion of the Winter Lands to young Potter had become public knowledge over the last several months. "I have it on good authority that the Winter Lands would be willing to renegotiate several trade agreements if I hold this seat," Diana informed him.

Potter nodded his head as if he had guessed her response. "Then the seat is yours," he said simply.

Marlot leaped to his feet in outrage, but before he could utter a single word, Potter turned and pinned him with his gaze. From his position Lucius could see that there was no anger in Potter's face, but rather a quiet curiosity. Marlot stared at the young man in shock, seemingly stunned to silence despite the fact that no spell was uttered. A moment later he sank back down into his seat without protest. At this Lucius felt a shiver of fear run down his spine -- this was unexpected.

Potter turned then toward Merik Volpine -- at eighty years old, the silver-haired man was believed to be the oldest werewolf currently alive, and had made no secret of his condition. Despite his disease he was remarkably hale looking.

"It's good to see you again, sir," Potter remarked and Lucius frowned at the exchange. Volpine was a recluse -- as far as he knew Potter would have had no opportunity to have met the man. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he frowned, reevaluated the old man sitting before them. He'd seen the brief duel the man had engaged in yesterday -- his opponent had been a rather vicious, former Auror who had made a career of hunting down various Dark Creatures. Volpine had taken him out with a single curse. Was it possible that Volpine had been one of the numerous Wizards to have been Called? If that were the case Lucius was glad he had not thought to challenge him.

"You as well," Volpine returned Potter's greeting with a wolfish grin.

"It is your intention that Remus Lupin hold this seat?" Potter asked.

"It is," Volpine nodded in agreement.

At that Potter turned toward a rather nervous looking Remus Lupin. Lucius doubted he was the only one who saw the way Lupin's left hand twitched as if he was having difficulty preventing himself from reaching out and taking hold of the hand of Sirius Black beside him.

"It wasn't so long ago, Remus, that you were in this chamber defending your right to exist," Potter stated, and at his words several people shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. Indeed Lucius did not think the reminder bode well for him at all. "Indeed for the rights of all Werewolves to exist. I think you more than anyone will agree that such a law must be changed." His words sparked a murmur of dissent which spread through the room, but Lucius noticed the approving grin on Dumbledore's face.

Werewolves, he thought with distaste. What would be next? Mudbloods. . .Lucius cut off the thought. He supposed if he was going to attempt to align himself with Potter he would have to curb such thoughts. A misplaced word could cause great difficulty for him in the days ahead.

"You could do a lot of good here, Remus," Potter continued. "Will you accept this position?"

A number of emotions flicked across Lupin's face before he swallowed nervously and finally nodded his head. Black reached out then and grasped Lupin's hand in his own.

Potter smiled faintly at that. "Then it is yours," he confirmed before turning his attention toward Valerian Ventus who sat beside Volpine. Ventus had been a Slytherin a year ahead of Lucius at Hogwarts. Lucius couldn't help but wonder how he had become an agent for a Vampire Lord. As far as he had known, the Ventus family had no ties with the Vampire clans. Considering the laws against Vampires, there were few Slytherins who would be willing to so openly align themselves with one.

"You hold this seat for Lord Aventine?" Potter asked.

Grinning as if fascinated by the events playing out before him, Ventus nodded. "I do."

Surprisingly Potter stepped away from him, turning instead to face the cloaked and hooded figure seated in the back row of the viewing gallery. At his actions, the stranger raised his hands and pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing dark hair, a pale but handsome face, and the red eyes of a Vampire.

At the sight, shouts of alarm echoed through the room and a dozen wands were drawn, mirroring the events of a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin had transformed in front of everyone. This time it was Potter's shout of "No!" that stayed their hands. Aventine never flinched, his glowing gaze remaining fixed on Potter.

"Put your wands away!" Potter ordered into the panicked silence that fell over the room. He had turned his head and was direct his words specifically to Darmut. Lucius noticed Stark and several other Aurors in the viewing gallery watching the exchange uncertainly. Darmut's face hardened as Potter held his gaze, but after a long tense moment he lowered his hand, slipping his wand back into his holster. He nodded to his men to do the same. For the moment, peace returned and Potter turned his attention back to the Vampire waiting for him.

"When I heard your name I thought it might have been you I met the other night," Potter said to the Vampire, and Lucius felt the bitter tightening of his jaw. Aventine, like Volpine, had also been Called -- two Dark Creatures, and unlike him, they had been free to answer the Call. How had he come to this place, pushed aside by the impure?

"I thought perhaps the time for neutrality had passed," Aventine remarked and his words caused nervous reactions throughout the room. Neutrality, Lucius wondered. What did he mean?

"I said to you the other night that I would ask nothing of you that you would not freely give," Potter told him. "And I will stand by that. But today it is you making the request. I confess I know little about the laws governing Vampires, but if they are anything like the laws governing Werewolves, I can not imagine that you or your people have been kindly treated by the Wizarding World, or that you hold us in any affection. Any exchange between us would require a great leap of faith. What is it you want?"

Potter's words alarmed many people in the room, but Lucius could clearly see the spark of amusement in Aventine's eyes. He seemed pleased by Potter's words. "Four hundred years ago there was man named Silvius Ventus. He was a Potions Master, from a prominent Slytherin family, and a known Parselmouth. He had made a number of research breakthroughs in potions that could potentially aid my people. But when the laws against Vampires were passed his researched was abandoned. His notes were taken by the Potion Makers Guild and locked away. It has taken me years but have finally gotten my hands on those research notes. Unfortunately they are written in Parseltongue, and I can not read them. I want those notes translated, and I want the Guild to continue the research."

They could all hear the passion in Aventine's voice as he spoke and Lucius found himself bewildered by it. He had always been led to believe that Vampires reveled in their curse -- why would they seek so desperately for a cure?According to the Ministry books, Vampires were little more than mindless creature who sought to spread their infection to the rest of the world.

"There is another who can translate those notes," Potter reminded the Vampire, and though he did not speak the Dark Lord's name his words sent a shudder of awareness through the room.

Aventine smiled faintly at that, his eyes flashing. "I do not trust the other," he said simply, and though he said no more they all understood the implication behind his words.

Potter glanced over his shoulder at Severus Snape, his green eyes holding some silent question. Severus inclined his head once in agreement, and Potter smiled, turning back toward Aventine. "I will translate the notes for you," he stated. "And while I do not speak for the Guild, I can promise you that at least one world-renowned Potion Master will continue your research."

"In exchange for this seat?" Aventine asked curiously, sparing Severus a brief glance. His eyes flicked toward Lupin -- no doubt he was aware of who had cured the man of his Lycanthropy.

Potter cocked his head at that. "No," he said surprising them all. "You will have the translation and the research regardless of what is decided here today. As for the seat -- it is yours provided you can deal fairly with Ministry despite the injustice they have dealt your people. It is my hope that like Remus Lupin and Merick Volpine you intend to seek equality for your people."

"That is my hope," Aventine agreed and they could all see the look of quiet amazement in his burning eyes as he stared down at the young man before him.

"And what if told you, that though he does not know it yet, I intend to have Lucius Malfoy become a champion for your cause?" Harry asked, and his words cause a stir of shock to move though the room. Lucius stared at the young man in disbelief. What in Merlin's name was he talking about? He found himself turning to look at Severus for an explanation only to find that the dark-eyed man looked just as bewildered. Indeed the looks of shock on Lupin's and Black's faces were almost comical.

Aventine however smiled in mirth. "I would say that I am aware of Lord Malfoy's skill and abilities and would count myself well served."

"Then the seat is yours," Potter replied, though he glanced at Albus for confirmation. "Does holding a position on the Wizengamot give him full citizenship rights or will we need to deal with that as well?"

Dumbledore, who seemed less shocked and more amazed by the proceedings, just nodded his head. "As a member of the Wizengamot his rights are assured," he told him, and Potter smiled in acceptance.

Potter turned then toward Lucius and as those green eyes studied his face Lucius felt a sense a of panic well up in his heart. For the first time today he wondered if he had badly miscalculated by coming here -- but no, perhaps there was still a chance to salvage this day. If Potter wanted him to promise to champion the cause of Vampires and Werewolves and Puppies, who was he to protest? Merlin knew he was an expert at promising things he did not mean.

And yet . . .Severus would have warned him of this? Why would Potter take such a chances -- why would he even think to give him this opportunity after all the things he had done to him and his family? Had he done something to sway him? Did he hold some previously unknown fascination or attraction over Potter that he had been unaware of? If the look of anger on Severus' face was any indication, it was possible that he did. He wondered suddenly if he might be able to manipulate things in such a way as to gain even more than the seat on the Wizengamot he desired.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," Potter said suddenly. "It would seem you have a decision to make."

A decision -- the boy was offering a deal. Why in Merlin's name would he trust him with such a thing? It made no sense. . .and yet, Lucius was not one to ignore a golden opportunity. If no one was going to speak out and warn the boy, he certainly wasn't going to refuse.

He was careful about choosing his next words -- vague promises were always the best ones. "You wish me to aid Lord Aventine in exchange--"

"No, Mr. Malfoy," Potter cut him off before he could continued. "There is no deal laid before you. There is no exchange being offered -- a seat for a favor."

Lucius frowned. Had he misread the situation? "I don't understand." Surely it was a bargain Potter was after?

Potter gazed in silence at him for a long moment, and he grew uncomfortable under that stare, as if he were being sized up in a way he had never experienced before. "There is path before you, Mr. Malfoy," he said, and his voice held a strange certainty. "It has a appeared before you before, several times, but you have never set foot upon it. It is here before you once more, one last time. It will not appear again."

Potter crossed the room as he spoke, pausing to stand in the center of the chamber. Lucius shivered as he listened, watching him in utter disbelief. What in Merlin's name was he talking about? A tendril of fear crept up his spine and into his heart -- why did those words sound so ominous, so final? Across the room he could see Severus, Lupin and Black staring hard at Potter, as if trying to warn him without words not to continue.

"A path?" Lucius asked in bewilderment. If the young man wanted him to promise something in exchange -- fine. But he needed to know what it was he was promising -- how else was he to work this to his advantage. He didn't know what to do with riddles.

"I know why you are here, Mr. Malfoy," Potter told him, and for a moment Lucius felt as if he'd been stripped bare, as if the Dark Mark upon his arm was visible for all to see. "I know what you want. And it is not power, prestige, or Ancient Magicks no matter what lies you tell yourself."

The fear in Lucius' heart grew, overwhelming him. Could the young man read his mind? How had he known the very thoughts that consumed him? Despite all his training and the years spent mastering himself, he found himself involuntarily taking a step back.

"If you go seeking elsewhere for what you want you will find nothing," Potter told him, and Lucius was no longer able to look away from those green eyes that burned him. And though Potter was gazing straight at him, he was no longer certain if the young man was truly seeing him. There was a power in his voice that permeated the room; it warmed the air, made it feel alive.

"I know what you want, Mr. Malfoy. I can see it, there before you, it lies down this path. But I must warn you, if you set foot upon this road, you will never step off of it. It will change you, it will hold you, and you will never go back to what you knew before."

They were all staring at him now, every man and women in the room, speechless as if they were listening to the voice of destiny. And perhaps they were -- for Lucius could not ever remember feeling so alone in his life. Every plot, every manipulation, every lie he held in his mind abandoned him, leaving his mind empty, quiet, like the darkness waiting for the first ray of daylight.

Potter let out a soft breath and bowed his head before glancing up at Dumbledore. The old wizard had removed his glasses and was staring at the young man with a look of amazement, as if he'd never seen him before. Whatever it was the young man was seeking in his old mentor, he did not seem to find it, for he sighed and turned away, his gaze once again turning toward Lucius.

"There is your seat, Mr. Malfoy," he said, raising his hand and pointing to one of the empty chairs beside Madam Bones. "Take it or leave. I will not make this decision for you."

Mind still blank, numb, Lucius found himself looking around at the others, seeking answers on their faces. Most of the men and women in the room were staring at Potter in confused silence, most seeming stunned -- for though Potter was no longer speaking they could all still feel his words vibrating in the air. Severus, Lupin and Black were glaring at Lucius, staring hard at him as if willing him to turn away, willing him to leave their presence. And Dumbledore, his old Headmaster, was staring at him with a look of astonishment that was waring with equal parts disbelief.

It occurred to Lucius in that instant that they did not want him to do this things -- whatever this task Potter had laid before him -- they did not want him to do it. They did not believe him capable of doing it -- and he felt a momentary surge of such rage inside him that he thought for a moment that he was trapped back in that awful instant when he'd realized he could not answer the Call. He could kill them! Kill them all! And prove to the Wizarding World once and for all that Lucius Malfoy did not need anyone!

'If you go seeking elsewhere for what you want you will find nothing' -- Potter's words echoed through his mind. Nothing. . .had he meant that literally, that there was nothing else for him? That if he walked out that door, there would be nothing beyond? Is this all that awaited him -- to join these disbelievers who would vilify him, or nothing?

But no, Potter had said he could see what he wanted, could see it there before him, and staring into those burning green eyes Lucius could believe it utterly. He had no idea what it was Potter saw, he had no idea what it was that he apparently wanted -- how had he come to this? To not even know his own mind, his own desires? But Potter knew, and had shown him the path he needed to walk to find it. Though every other gaze in the room glared at him, there was no censure in Potter's eyes -- despite the fact that he had given him every cause in the world to hate him. Potter knew, and was giving him a chance -- one last chance. 'It is here before you once more, one last time. It will not appear again.'

Whatever this was -- this chance, this path, this quest -- it had nothing to do with the others in the room. Lucius could not allow them to make the decision for him. He had come here to play his usual games, to pull the strings of the puppets around him, and had instead found himself in a foreign place, standing utterly alone before a dark-haired, green-eyed king, who asked the impossible of him.

He took a step forward, and then another and another, mounting the stairs and stepping onto the high gallery platform. A leap of faith, he thought. It would change him, it would hold him. He did not know how, but he believed Potter was correct -- he would not go back to what he knew before. Reaching the chair beside Madam Bones, he sat down, raising his head proudly and meeting the emerald gaze that had just ripped something open inside him.

"Welcome, Lord Malfoy," the boy said kindly, and smiling, Lucius inclined his head to his king.

- ----

Author's Note: That chapter was harder to write than I expected (the legal bits always are). And sorry it is all in Lucius' point of view -- I know that irritates many people who just want to read Snarry interaction and nothing more. Lucius however had a lot to talk about and who am I to deny him his moment in the spot light.

To stave of a couple of questions I'm bound to get -- no, Lucius has not turned gay, despite the mistress that looks like Harry (she's still a woman). Lucius is a Dark Wizard -- and as I said in a previous chapter 'Dark' is tied with emotion. Lucius is attracted to Harry's power -- not his body -- though if it served his purpose he wouldn't think twice about seducing Harry. As for Narcissa and her reaction to Sirius -- go back and read the chapter titled "Grand Gestures" for a better explanation of why. And No, I'm not letting Lucius off the hook for what he did to Remus -- rather Harry has decided on a form of poetic justice.

As for Severus -- yes, he's jealous as hell and will have a great deal to say on the subject. And yes, in case you were wondering, Harry was listening to the Ravens several times in this chapter.

I had to laugh at one email I got -- no, I'm not dead. Wouldn't that be strange? How would any of you ever find out if I did die . . . I promise to do my best to remain alive long enough to finish this story. Yes, I do occasionally get writer's block - not so much over the plot specifics but rather the actual details of the stories. Sometimes even figuring out whose point of view to write a chapter from throws me for a loop (I actually considered writing part of this chapter from the point of view of a house elf -- luckily I abandoned that idea quickly enough).


	70. Chapter 70 The Price of Valor

Chapter 70 - The Price of Valor

The urge to leap out of his seat, grab Harry and shake him was almost overwhelming to Severus. And for once he suspected that he, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were entirely of one mind.

His hands were clenched into knuckle-white fists as he watched Lucius Malfoy take a seat on the Wizengamot and be welcomed by a gently smiling Harry. Had the boy gone mad? They had all warned him -- over and over again. Even Draco, he suspected, had warned him -- Lucius Malfoy could not be trusted. He would promise them the moon with no intention of ever delivering it. He would lie, cheat, steal -- do anything in his power to forward his own agenda. And if it served his gain, he would stab Harry in the back the first chance he got. Why would the boy offer him such an opportunity for mischief? Why wouldn't he simply order the Aurors in the room to take him away? With Harry's current position in the Wizarding World he could easily expose Lucius as the Death Eater he was and have him sent to Azkaban no questions asked.

Severus found himself glaring at Dumbledore, silently urging the old wizard to do something about this. Surely Harry would listen to reason if Dumbledore just spoke up. It was bad enough that Harry seemed to think that the Vampire sitting on the far side of the room was little more than a harmless victim of circumstances -- at least Werewolves were only Dark Creatures for a single night out of the month. Vampires were dangerous every day. But that at least Severus could understand -- a disease should not fate a person to a life of slavery.

Lucius, however, was a far different matter. Lucius had earned whatever fate befell him. He did not deserve a second chance -- Harry truly didn't understand what the man was capable of doing. And if he honestly believed that anything in this world would make Lucius champion the cause of Vampire and Werewolf civil rights, he was completely deluded.

Despite the glare Severus was sending him, Dumbledore only had eyes for Harry, and while Severus could see some vague sense of disbelief in the man's twinkling eyes, it was overwhelmed by sheer amazement. Dumbledore believed in Harry -- utterly. For whatever reason, Dumbledore was willing to give Harry his complete trust on this issue.

Merlin! Could none of them see the way Lucius was looking at Harry? Could they not see the lust in the man's eyes? Lucius was an extremely beautiful man, but surely Harry was not swayed by that! Severus' stomach twisted at the thought.

"Is there anything else, Headmaster?" Harry asked quietly as he stood in the center of the room.

Dumbledore looked momentarily startled by the question before glancing swiftly around at the rest of the Wizengamot. Many of them looked equally stunned by the display they had just witnessed. "Ah, yes," the old wizard remarked. "Perhaps an interim Minister?"

Harry did not seem particularly surprised at the request but Severus wanted to shout in protest yet again. What were they all doing? These decisions should not be put on Harry's shoulders. This was not his responsibility!

"Madame Bones will serve as interim Minister, if she pleases," Harry stated, nodding briefly toward the woman in question.

Amelia looked startled at his words, but before she could respond, Madame Umbridge leaped to her feet in protest. "But that will give her an unfair advantage in the election?"

Harry frowned at that, glancing briefly at Umbidge. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Or she may decide after a few weeks that she does not want the job at all. Considering the nonsense that goes on here, I can't say I would blame her." He glanced back at Amelia. "Will you accept?"

Amelia nodded her head in agreement, looking briefly toward Albus as if seeking his approval. The old man smiled at her in encouragement.

"Well, then that settles it," Dumbledore exclaimed. "Now I understand we have a large number of foreign heads of state and ambassadors who wish to speak with us as well as a few Muggle officials. We should proceed to the audience chamber and attend to them immediately. The sooner things can get back to normal around here, the better."

His words had a galvanizing effect on everyone, breaking the stillness as everyone began rising to their feet and talking all at once. The noise level in the chamber rose significantly, but Severus was far more focused on Harry who rejoined him and sank back down into the seat beside him. The boy looked tired, and completely lost in thought, and Severus didn't have the slightest idea what to say to him. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he wouldn't be able to stop shouting. Indeed he suspected Black and Lupin felt the same way. He was extremely conscious of the fact that Lucius had not yet taken his eyes off the boy.

Dumbledore rejoined them a moment later, informing them that he, Alrik and Diana would remain with Harry as they went to speak with the foreign dignitaries. Sirius and Remus both needed to go Department of Bloodline Inheritance as soon as possible -- if Sirius wanted to marry Remus he needed to change his Conscriptus, and by accepting the seat on the Wizengamot Remus has also accepted the role as Heir of the House of Volpine. That too would require formal acknowledgment. And while Severus desperately wanted to stay at Harry side, he had apparently promised to investigate Lord Aventine's potion dilemma -- he needed to go to speak with the Guild Master and find out if there were any further research notes belonging to Silvius Ventus hidden away in the Guild archives.

Severus glared in silent fury as Dumbledore ushered Harry from the room, followed swiftly by Amelia Bones and Lucius Malfoy. Several other members of the Wizengamot followed after them. As Darmut passed by him, Severus caught hold of the man's arm, startling him. "Under no circumstances is Harry to be left alone in Malfoy's company," he hissed at the Auror.

Darmut's eyes narrowed sharply. "Understood," he agreed, and Severus could tell by the tone of his voice that he did indeed understand fully.

As the room began clearing out, Sirius and Remus finally spoke up. "What in hell was that?" Sirius exclaimed under his breath. He waved his hand in a vague manner toward the floor of the chamber indicating that he meant the whole incident with Harry.

"It's your decision, Harry," Severus mimicked the words Sirius had spoken to Harry before they had left Hogwarts that day. "Whatever you decide, we'll stand by you -- THAT is what that was, Black!" He glared at the Gryffindor, who looked rather appalled at the reminder.

"But why would Harry trust Malfoy?" Sirius demanded. "It doesn't make any sense."

"The most respected and revered member of our world just asked a sixteen year old boy to solve all the problems of our government, and you're shocked that something doesn't make sense?" Severus snarled. "We're lucky the boy didn't remove everyone from office and replace all of them with his school chums. Under the circumstances I'm beginning to think they might do a better job."

"You might be right," Remus agreed in a subdued voice. "Considering our former Minster plotted to enslave the entire Wizarding population without anyone noticing."

Severus had no idea how to respond to that -- the reality was just too unbelievable to process. He'd known Fudge was an idiot -- but to learn that he'd also hidden a darker side was a real kick in the teeth. The corruption that must exist in the Wizengamot was too horrific to contemplate.

"It would seem Lucius Malfoy has done as all a good turn," a voice interrupted the three of them. They turned to stare in shock at Merik Volpine. Standing beside him was Lord Aventine, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. Severus suppressed a shudder and his natural instinct to back away from the Vampire.

"I don't understand," Remus replied, staring hard at the old werewolf. "Surely you know what Malfoy is capable of? That he has been one of the most outspoken against anyone whose blood is not pure. It was because of him I was subjected to an Euthanasia Inquiry."

"I know his past," Volpine nodded. "I also know that he has singlehandedly just removed the most corrupt members of this council."

"And replaced them with himself," Sirius protested. "And he's ten times worse than all of them put together. I see no improvement. He can't be trusted. He won't change!"

"Are you so certain of that?" Aventine asked quietly. "Do you not recognize a geis when you hear one?"

All three of them frowned and stared at the Vampire in disbelief. A geis, Severus thought. What on earth was he talking about? Harry had not tasked with Malfoy with anything -- not really -- save for some vague reference that he would not step off some path. And Malfoy certainly had not sworn any oath or vow -- not unless simply accepting the seat was considered an oath.

Aventine just smiled, exchanging a brief look with an equally amused Volpine. "It is not so easy to go against the will of a king, and for whatever else Harry Potter is, he is our king. Two nights ago, the entire world changed -- it is changing still. Faced with that, it is not so hard to believe that one man can also change -- even Lucius Malfoy."

Severus found himself completely at a loss for words -- how could these two Dark Creatures possibly believe that Lucius Malfoy could be trusted? They had more to lose than any of them. But then perhaps it was not Lucius they were trusting -- but Harry instead. It had not escaped his notice that Harry had recognized both men -- had met them both at the Calling the other night. If he had been allowed to go, perhaps he too would understand the working of things. And yet Black seemed equally baffled.

"Silvius Ventus' notes," Aventine said suddenly, holding out a thick leather-bound book to Severus. "I look forward to hearing your assessment of the research."

Frowning, Severus took the book from him, nodding in silent acknowledgment. The Vampire inclined his head to all of them, and then turned with a flare of his cloak and strode from the room. His aid, Valerian Ventus, swiftly followed.

Sighing, Severus glanced at Sirius and Remus. "I need to go speak with Master Dorester in the Guild Hall." 

"We'll meet you on the fifth level when we're done," Black told him. "Dumbledore will keep an eye on Harry, I'm sure."

"Assuming he hasn't lost what's left of his marbles," Severus grumbled before turning and striding from the room. He muttered under his breath as he made his way down the stone corridor toward the elevators. "I've got to stop making those blasted lemon drops for him. I think they've finally damaged his mind."

-----

Despite his hurry and his desire to get back to Harry as soon as possible, it took nearly an hour before Severus managed to track down the Guild records he was looking for. The Guild Ministry offices were kept on level three of the Ministry Building near the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. As luck would have it most of the Potion Masters who held Ministry positions were still in the process of brewing potions for St. Mungos and the victims of the attack on the Quidditch Pitch. Nonetheless there were still enough Guild Members who recognized Severus the moment he walked into the office to swarm him and pepper him with questions on everything from the Lycanthropy potion to what it was like being married to Harry Potter.

In the end it took the intervention of Master Dorester himself to get Severus past the gauntlet of questions and down into the archive of records so he could search for the necessary scrolls and papers. While the Guild kept meticulous notes, he knew the actual details of the research would be in the book that Aventine had given him. But there were bound to be various dissertations on Ventus' work that could prove invaluable for Severus' research.

Searching through the dark narrow corridors of bookshelves in the archive, he found the stack of scrolls he was looking for buried beneath four hundred years of dust. He shrunk the pile and slipped it all into an inner pocket of his cloak next to the Parseltongue book. Then he purposely slipped out through a little used back hallway and left the Guild offices unseen. As he headed once again toward the elevators he shuddered in irritation as he remembered the questions he'd been asked by his peers. The prurient interest the world seemed to have in his private life was rather disturbing.

Knowing that Harry and Albus would be somewhere in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, he punched the elevator button for the fifth level. He'd been gone longer than he'd wanted to be and he was nervous about getting back to Harry's side. He didn't think Dumbledore or Alrik would let Harry out of his sight, but all the same he'd feel a lot better if he were with him. He also was nervous about who it was who might have been waiting for Harry. According to the papers the Pharaoh of Egypt was caught up in her own political intrigues so he doubted she'd be present, but there were others Severus worried might approach Harry if he was left unattended.

It wasn't even so much that he worried that Harry would leave him -- Harry had sworn to him that he would not. And Gryffindors if nothing else were trustworthy when their promises were given. But the idea that ate at Severus was that Harry might one day open his eyes and see what else he might have had and regret his promise. He wasn't certain he would be able to stand it if Harry ever gazed at him with regret in his eyes -- or even worse what if that regret one day turned to disgust or hatred? What would Severus do then?

The elevator door slid open and Severus stepped into the hallway -- despite the fact that there were supposedly numerous foreign delegates visiting the Ministry, the torch-lit hallways were deserted. No doubt everyone was gathered in the main chamber -- which was probably a good thing. Harry would be surrounded by people and in full view of the public.

Heading directly toward the chamber in question, he rounded a corner and stopped short, noting two figures waiting in the wide but dimly lit corridor up ahead. Both men were tall and well-dressed, sporting the more stylized doublets favored in France. Severus was quick to note the longswords each wore strapped to their belts. The taller of the two, a blond man with thin goatee also held one leather gauntlet in his hand. He still wore his sword-hand gauntlet on his left hand, and the symbolism was not lost on Severus. Two men, armed with swords, waiting for him, one bearing his wand-hand gauntlet in his grasp -- Severus allowed no expression to cross his face as the gauntlet was tossed at his feet. He'd been in enough duels to understand the situation clearly.

"Your name, sir?" he demanded of the man. It was the other man who stepped forward -- no doubt he would be serving as the Second.

"Allow me to present Monsieur Philip Clovis," the man replied with flourish. His French accent was unmistakable.

Severus suppressed the urge to groan. He'd heard of Clovis -- anyone who'd ever studied the sword knew of the man. He was considered one of the top duelers in France. He was also a distant cousin of the current king of France, Louis the XXIII -- though rumor was the ruling House of Bourbon tended to distance themselves from the man because of his involvement in so many duels. He suspected the Second was probably Jacques Bernard -- also a well-known dueler and Clovis' preferred Second.

"And your grievance with me?" Severus asked, making no move to pick up the gauntlet. He could hardly refuse -- he knew that. He was honor bound to accept the duel. But until he retrieved the gauntlet Clovis would not attack. Clovis might not have been a Slytherin, but the rules of dueling amongst the European nations were fairly standard.

Clovis smiled at his question, his blue eyes glinting in the dim corridor. "I have no grievance with you," he said simply, his accent equally heavy. "But there are certain people who would be pleased if you were out of the picture."

Out of the picture -- that one phrase told Severus far more than he wanted to know. Clovis did not mean to simply win a duel -- he meant to kill him. He had thought that when the world eventually moved against him, they would simply seek to invalidate his marriage to Harry. But perhaps that was more trouble than it was worth -- it would be far easier to simply kill him and remove him from the equation entirely. It would certainly make things easier for everyone involved -- no need to prove grounds for an annulment. If Severus was dead, so was the marriage regardless of whether or not it had ever been consummated. He supposed he should be grateful that they had not simply sent assassins after him -- at lest this way he had a chance to defend himself.

He couldn't help but wonder though who had sent Clovis -- he doubted the man had come on his own. The most likely person was Louis XXIII himself -- the man had seven children, all currently unmarried. He could imagine how pleased they would all be if Harry were suddenly single.

Severus frowned -- he was certainly magically stronger than Clovis, but in a duel that didn't necessarily mean victory. And Clovis had a Second -- if he were to defeat Clovis, the other man could challenge him immediately afterwards without giving Severus the opportunity to rest. Without a Second of his own, he would be at an extreme disadvantage.

He silently mourned his lack of Slytherin friends -- not one of the men or women he'd grown up with and learned to duel with would ever volunteer to Second him. As it stood his closest potential ally in this situation was Lucius Malfoy himself -- and Severus knew better than to ever accept that man's aid.

He was on his own today. He would face them both down or die trying.

Draw his wand he summoned the gauntlet to him, refusing to bend down in front of the two men. He sneered at them as they smiled in acknowledgment.

"Severus!" Sirius Black's voice startled all three of them and they turned to see Black and Remus Lupin hurrying down the hallway toward them. Clovis and Bernard stepped aside as they passed, making no move to attack immediately despite the acceptance of the challenge.

Black took one look at the gauntlet in Severus' hand and shot a dark glare at the two Frenchmen. "I'll Second you, Severus," he said immediately, and Severus felt a shock of surprise go through him. Had the world truly changed so much that Sirius Black would jump to his defense? He wasn't certain what to feel about that.

"And you are?" Clovis demanded.

"Sirius Black," the Gryffindor responded, grinning wolfishly at the two of them. The two Frenchmen exchanged an odd look, and Bernard did not look nearly so confident now.

"According to the papers, you are supposed to be insane," Clovis remarked with a flippant sneer of his lips.

"Yes," Sirius agreed cheerfully. "That is what they say."

"I'll referee, shall I?" Remus remarked pleasantly smiling at all four of them as if about to watch a Quidditch match. A moment later his entire body seemed to shift and melt away, leaving an enormous Hellhound in his place. Clovis and Bernard took several steps back at that, alarm clear on their faces.

"Hellhound," Sirius explained to them with a grin. "They make excellent referees. Legend says that if you cheat beneath the eyes of a Hell-spawn, you lose your soul."

Though keeping a wary eye on Remus, Clovis still managed to look indignant. "You dare suggest I would cheat?"

"Insane, remember?" Sirius rolled his eyes. "You can hardly hold it against me."

More times than he liked Severus had been on the receiving end of the Marauders' outrageous impudence -- he never thought the day would come that he would be grateful for it. Sirius caught his eye as he moved behind him to take up his position as Second. "Don't waste time, Severus," he whispered. "Put him down quickly, kill him if you have to. He won't be the last. They need to know there is a consequence if you hope to deter any of them."

Severus had already reached the same conclusion himself, though he was surprised to hear it echoed by Black. It was also strangely gratifying to know Black had such faith in his abilities. There was just one small problem with the whole thing. "And how am I to explain to Harry why I killed when Lucius Malfoy would not?" he asked quietly.

"I think Harry would prefer to have you alive," Sirius said simply as Clovis drew his sword in one hand and his wand in the other.

Frowning, wand already brandished, Severus drew his own sword and stepped forward to meet his opponent. This was not how he'd hoped to spend his day.

They studied each other briefly, both men noting the way each held their sword and wand and how their weight was placed, their bodies poised. While Severus knew the French court favored the rapier, Clovis was armed with a traditional longsword to match his own -- he would have been at a disadvantage with a lighter blade. And then as if responding to some hidden signal the two of them attacked.

In his days in Slytherin House, Severus had learned every nasty trick possible when it came to dueling and he employed them all now. His first spell was aimed at his own sword rather than his opponent, setting the Wizarding Steel of his blade alight with Living Fire. It was a spell only the most powerful Wizards could master -- every hit of that sword would burn mercilessly.

His blade struck only a second behind that first spell, even as he cast a magical shield to block Clovis' initial magical attack -- an Incendio that if it had hit would have lit his cloak on fire. After that Severus did not even attempt to hold back -- sword and spell flew between the the two of them, scorching the walls and setting the corridor alight with flashes of light and shrieks of steel against steel, both of them moving with such speed the blows were impossible to track.

Clovis more than lived up to his reputation -- the man's skill with the blade surpassed his own, and only his stronger shield kept him safe -- though even still he felt more than one hit make it through to his flesh when he did not angle the shield in the right direction. The Frenchman was quick with his wand as well -- though his choice of spells were predictable and relied more than once on verbal commands rather than the faster non-verbal ones Severus used.

Back and forth they moved, exchanging blow after blow, spells exploding between them, until Severus finally noted the hole in the man's defense. Clovis used his own magical shield to ward off Severus' sword alone, as if knowing it would not hold up long beneath the onslaught of magic. He instead relied on his extraordinary agility to avoid the spells coming toward them -- throwing off Severus' aim with the use of his own sword.

After that Severus switched his spells to the cutting hex -- sending long glowing rope-like streaks of light sweeping toward the man in such a way that he could not physically avoid all of them. Clovis had no choice but to maneuver his shield to ward off the spell and the moment his weight shifted Severus struck with his burning blade, slicing open a long swath of scorched flesh across the man's side. The Living Fire clung to his skin, eating into his body.

Screaming, Clovis fell backward, and Severus struck his shield one last time with a crushing hex, sending the man to the ground. He brought his boot down on the man's sword arm, his own blade poised to pierce the man directly through the chest. The Living Fire continued to burn.

"I yield!" Clovis shouted, releasing his grip on both his sword and his wand and staying Severus' hand. The scent of burning flesh hung thick in the air, and for one moment Severus was temped to take the man's life anyway. He was not immune to the adrenaline or rage that pumped through his veins -- he was still a Slytherin after all.

But the thought of how Harry might look at him if he gave into his baser instincts was enough to force him back. He stepped away from Clovis, returning to Black's side, and allowed the man's Second to tend to the fallen man and extinguish the Living Fire that still ate at him. As it was he would bear that scar for life.

"Nice," Black remarked simply and Severus gave a brief grunt in acknowledgment. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he became aware of the pain in his own body. Clovis had struck him three times with his sword -- once in the arm, and twice in the leg. He was bleed in all three places.

Bernard looked up a moment later, glaring at them, his eyes raking over Black as if debating whether or not he should issue the challenge. Severus knew he'd been right about the situation -- if Black had not been there, he would have been challenged immediately despite being wounded.

"You're welcome to try it," Black told the man with a grin. "But I should probably warn you, after I beat you, I'm going to let him eat both of you. He hasn't been fed yet today." He motioned toward the nearby Hellhound who licked his chops on cue.

Gulping nervously, the man said nothing but instead helped Clovis to his feet. The French dueler inclined his head, his face still twisted in pain. "Well fought, Monsieur," he stated, and then allowed his companion to lead him away, disappearing down the long hallway.

Remus transformed a moment later, moving to Severus' side. "You're bleeding," he stated unnecessarily even as he drew his wand and began casting several spells to close the wounds. It would likely take Madam Pomfrey to heal them completely, but at least he could get the bleeding stopped and deal with the pain.

"Don't want to keep the scars as tokens?" Black asked with a touch of the old mockery in his voice -- he might have been a Gryffindor but he'd been born into a Slytherin family. He knew all their customs.

"I think I have enough scars as it is," Severus replied, for once feeling no antagonism toward the man. The two of them may not like each other -- but he could no longer deny that Black had been there when he needed him, behaving exactly the way a member of his family was supposed to behave.

"Come on," Remus urged the two of them when he'd closed the wounds as best he could. "Let's find Harry and Albus and get out of here. I think we've all had enough of the Ministry for one day."

Nodding in agreement, Severus fell into step beside the two of them, moving down the corridor once again toward the main hallway to the International Trade Chambers. They rounded the last corridor only to stop short once again.

Over twenty men were standing between them and the main doors to the Chambers -- all of them standing in pairs, all of them armed with swords. In each pair, one man held his wand-hand gauntlet in his hand. All of them were staring at Severus.

-----

Author's Note: Sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliff hanger. I get the stuff out to you as I finish it. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter (Harry's POV) done by next week.

Regarding the House of Bourbon: As far as I know that royal line ended with Louis the XVIII, but as I mentioned in one of the earlier chapters, the French Wizarding World removed themselves from all contact with the Muggle World prior to the Reign of Terror. They also missed the whole Napoleon thing. Not that it's overly important -- but in this version of the world a magical offshoot of the House of Bourbon remained in power in the French Wizarding World.

I want to thank everyone who's been reviewing my story. And I really want to thank all of you for your extremely positive remarks from the last few chapters. After taking a bit of break over the holiday I was afraid I would come back to shouts of protest -- but instead I got nothing but encouragement and understanding. This whole process has been a wonderful (though exhausting) experience, and I want to tell all of you how much I appreciate your remarks. They keep me going when I think I can't possible write another word.


	71. Chapter 71 The Things That Matter

Chapter 71 - The Things That Matter

Harry sighed forlornly as he watched the proceedings in front of him. The International Trade Chamber was crowded with men and women from all over the world, and if he thought a typical gathering of the Wizengamot was chaotic, it was nothing compared to this. The Chamber was set up much the same way as the main Wizengamot Court room -- save that it lacked a high platform. While there were viewing galleries on either side, the majority of the delegates were gathered around an enormous table set in the center floor of the room. With the exception of Harry, Diana and Alrik, very few people were sitting.

The foreign delegates were milling about on the main floor, all talking over one another, some yelling, some shouting, many waving their hands to emphasis whatever point they were making. Harry could hear a dozen different languages being spoken -- along with the steady murmur of various translation spells.

While Harry sat in one of the side galleries with Diana and Alrik sitting on either side of him, Dumbledore, Madam Bones and Lucius Malfoy were out on the main floor amid the insanity. Shacklebolt, Stark, Darmut and several other Aurors had remained near Harry, standing to either side of him, acting as an effective deterrent from anyone approaching.

As for the conversations going on before him -- to say Harry was baffled would have been an understatement. The majority of the focus seemed to be which nation was at greater risk for an attack -- and thus which country Harry should reside in to protect from further demonic attack. Some of the arguments went so far as to suggest which country was of more value to the world -- which people most deserved to live. But amongst this main concern were issues of trade and commerce -- apparently numerous nations believed that Harry could somehow boost their various economies. There were other countries who were in the midst of civil unrest -- apparently there were dozens of small Asian nations who had been waring with each other for several hundred years. Harry was supposed to fix all of that as well.

Despite the crazy claims, it was almost amusing to watch Dumbledore, Malfoy and Madam Bones working the crowd. Madam Bones as the interim Minister seemed to see it as her duty to play peacemaker amongst those who became too heated. But Dumbledore and Malfoy appeared to have adopted a different strategy -- by keeping the delegates yelling at each other, they paid little attention to Harry himself. The truth was the two men were a rather formidable team, taking unspoken cues from one another as they manipulated everyone around him. Not for the first time Harry had to wonder if Dumbledore had been in Slytherin.

It was strange though that here in this utterly alien environment he should be so strongly reminded of the Dursleys. The discussions were certainly similar -- where was Harry going to go, what was he going to do, how were they going to make him work for them? Also similar was the realization that no matter what he did or how he did it, he would never be able to please anyone. The things they were asking were impossible.

"Is it always like this?" Alrik asked, leaning toward Harry so that he could be heard over the noise. They were busy watching a German Prince and a Spanish Ambassador fight over whose castle Harry would be spending the summer in -- apparently getting Harry's permission was secondary to their argument.

"Pretty much," Harry agreed.

"I'm beginning to think the Winter Lands would be better off if we cut off all ties with the rest of the world entirely," Alrik remarked, the look on his face one of disbelief.

"You and me both," Harry sighed. He doubted there were very many disagreements or political intrigues in the Winter Lands that could not be solved easily with a simple fist fight. All this wheeling-and-dealing, the lies and manipulations, the plots and negotiations -- it was all beyond Harry. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He wondered how Severus, Sirius and Remus were fairing? He knew Sirius and Remus had gone to the Department of Bloodline Inheritance to change the Black Family Conscriptus -- he rather hoped to hear a marriage announcement soon from those two. Hopefully Sirius would find some romantic way of proposing to Remus -- Remus deserved something like that after everything he had gone through. Or maybe Remus would propose -- Harry wasn't really certain how that worked. He supposed it had something to do with their relative positions in society, but since Remus had just become a member of the Wizengamot and was going to be declared heir to the House of Volpine, his status surely must have risen. He also wondered if this meant that Remus would be receiving one of those Heir tattoos -- like the one he'd seen on Severus' back. He'd have to remember to ask him about it.

Severus had gone to the Guild; Harry spared a moment to wonder if Andre would be there. He frowned at the thought. Severus was angry with him -- he'd figured that much out by the way the man had practically been vibrating in rage when he'd sat down beside him in the Wizengamot Chamber after speaking with Lucius Malfoy. He supposed Sirius and Remus were angry too. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. Life really shouldn't be this complicated.

Certainly when he'd entered that chamber he'd had no intention of accepting Lucius Malfoy. But during his conversation with Lord Aventine something had just come over him -- from one minute to the next he'd just known what was going to happen.

He didn't really believe in Divination, and he'd never imagined he possessed any sense of foresight beyond the mad dreams he had from time to time. But for a moment the veil that hid the twisting paths of destiny from everyone's eyes had lifted. In that instant he had seen what Lucius Malfoy truly wanted, and he had known, just known, what to do about it. All the man had needed was a nudge in the right direction -- and even if he didn't owe it to Lucius Malfoy to help him, didn't he owe it to Draco who had abandoned everything he'd ever known and had stood beside all of them facing down that Elder Demon in the name of love? If there was a chance to give Draco his father back, wasn't he obligated to at least try? God knew he would do anything to have his own father back and he'd never even known the man.

But even if he had seen things so clearly -- he knew that Severus, Sirius and Remus had not. How was he supposed to explain it to them? He barely had words enough to explain it to himself. Certainly they might think him mad if he informed them he was listening to two imaginary ravens who apparently liked whispering in his ears.

They were whispering to him even now -- telling him quite distinctly that whatever role he was fated to play in this world, it had nothing to do with the madness going on in front of him. He hardly needed the birds to tell him that however. He couldn't understand half of what these people were saying let alone understand how it had anything to do with him. Maybe Hermione could figure it out, but Harry felt lost.

The reality was most of these people were speaking about themselves -- their rights, their money, their legacies, their pride, their reputations. Occasionally they mentioned their nations, but that seemed an abstract thing that had little to do with the actual people populating the countries. What was he doing here, he asked himself. How had a bizarre streak of luck at surviving life-and-death situations translated into this? Now more than ever he was convinced the world had gone completely mad. He wanted to go home.

Well over an hour had passed when he'd finally had enough, and he stood to his feet. Beside him Alrik and Diana stood as well, both looking curiously at him as if uncertain what he was about to do.

Those nearest to him saw the movement and immediately quieted down, backing away to make room for him as he stepped forward. Their movement caught the attention of everyone else, and the room swiftly grew silent, all eyes turning toward him. Harry suppressed the urge to shiver -- he hated being the center of attention. Why did this seem to be his lot in life?

"I want to thank you all for coming here today," Harry said into the silence. "I can see you all have a great many important things to discuss, and I do not wish to interrupt you. I have but one question for all of you. Voldemort--" he saw the shudder of horror that went through the crowd at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Apparently fear of the name was universal. "--has recently shown his hand. He has proven that he will go to any means to achieve his goals and he does not care who lives or who dies. He summoned an Elder Demon to attack us -- knowing full well that it would kill enemies and allies alike. I can only assume he will go to even great means in the future. For whatever reason, I have been thrust forward into the center of this conflict, but I must remind you that you are the leaders of your people. You have the responsibility to protect them. So I must ask you, which amongst you is willing to fight? If war comes, which amongst you is willing to send troops to defend our World? I hope that as you gather here to discuss your economies, and your civil issues, and your social calendars, you also find time to discuss this. I am eager to hear your answers, but for now, I am missing my Transfiguration Class and I would like to get back to school."

He glanced at Dumbledore expectantly, noting the extreme effort the man was making to keep the grin of amusement off his face. Indeed, Lucius Malfoy was staring hard at the floor of the Chamber and appeared to be fighting to keep the smirk from his lips.

"You are right, my boy!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I hate to think of the amount of homework Professor McGonagall will assign you if you miss much more of class." His words were all the cue needed -- Alrik, Diana and the Aurors moved swiftly forward, surrounding him as they all headed straight toward the main doors of the Chamber. Dumbledore, Malfoy and Madam Bones closed ranks as well, blocking the men and woman who began calling out to Harry and attempting to bar his way.

But if he expected to step into the quiet peace of the hallway beyond, he was disappointed. The doors opened upon a battle and Harry heard the distinctive sounds of swords clashing against one another as the hallway was lit up with the fiery light of curses. Harry stared in horror at the spectacle before him, trying to understand what he was witnessing.

The hallway was filled with men armed with swords -- he noticed the gauntlets various men were carrying. At the far end of the hall he could see Severus fighting with another man -- his sword blazing with fire as his wand shot hex after hex at his opponent. Sirius and Remus were standing just on the edge of the battle. Sirius held both his sword and wand in his hands, though neither was in use at the moment -- there was blood on his sword however as if he'd been fighting earlier. Harry could see blood dripping from the man's wand hand, though he was too far away to see what type of injury he had sustained.

There was blood on the ground beneath the duelers' feet, and Harry could see three swords lying off to one side. And Severus -- he could see numerous wounds on the man's body. The sword of his current opponent was still clean, so the wounds must have come from an earlier battle. Why Sirius and Remus were not hexing the men in front of them for all they were worth Harry did not know, but the panic that welled up in his heart at the realization that his family's lives were in danger was maddening.

"Severus!" Harry shouted as he charged forward. But he had taken no more than a step when he was grabbed around the waist by both Lucius Malfoy and Alrik. He fought against both men, intent on aiding the three men before him.

"It's a duel!" Lucius hissed at him. "You can not interfere."

"He's right, Harry," Alrik told him. "Severus must finish the fight himself. It would dishonor him if you intervened."

Alrik's words brought Harry up short. Dishonor him -- the last thing he wanted to do was dishonor Severus. But what did he care for honor when the man's life was at stake? Was he just supposed to stand here and do nothing! Even as he watched a stray spell escaped from the fray and slammed into a large, nearly invisible shield which lit up briefly with light -- Remus he could see was holding up the shield, keeping any stray curses from harming the spectators.

Severus had explained the rules of dueling to him during their sword lessons so he knew on a basic level what he was seeing. The men with gauntlets in their hands were challengers, and it would seem that Sirius was acting as Severus' Second. Indeed more than one fight had already been fought and Sirius must have taken his turn to let Severus rest. Normally the job of holding up the spectator shield fell to the two Seconds -- but Remus appear to be holding up both sides of it. That could only mean that all the Seconds intended to fight as well; Remus was giving Sirius a chance to rest.

It was odd though that he would allow the challenger's Second to rest -- why not force him to hold up his end of the bargain and tire him out before facing Sirius? But even as he watched he saw the answer to this oddity -- another spell escaped the fray, shot from the challenger's wand. It struck the shield directly in front of Remus and ricochet back. For a moment Remus seemed to stagger under the effort to deflect the spell, and the shield in front of the other challengers weakened -- the spell slipped through and slammed into a previously untried challenger, sending him to the ground.

"Sorry!" Remus called out -- though Harry noted the look of satisfaction both Remus and Sirius exchanged. He couldn't help but wonder how many people Remus had accidentally knocked out of the fight by appearing to be unable to hold both shields in place.

"Severus will beat him," Alrik told him.

"He's right," Lucius agreed. "The man's no match for Severus. See there -- Severus has struck him with a withering curse. The man will go down in moments."

Indeed as they watched, the man Severus was fighting stumbled, losing all strength in his legs. He staggered to one side, the glowing body-shield he was holding before him fizzling out. Severus lunged forward, and impaled the man through the stomach with his burning sword. The man screamed and fell back, losing consciousness before he struck the ground.

Severus stumbled backward, exhausted and injured, and Remus caught him even as Sirius stepped in front of them to face down the current Second who was presently casting healing spells at the fallen man in an attempt to keep him alive. Already there was another pair of duelers moving forward to take up positions.

Harry didn't hesitate at that moment, breaking away from Malfoy and Alrik and racing down the hallway, the other's following swiftly behind. When the men in the hallway failed to move aside, Harry shoved them all violently, ignoring their shouts of outrage, followed swiftly by gasps of shock when they realized who it was before them.

He reached Sirius, Severus and Remus, briefly clasping Sirius on the shoulder and then catching hold of Severus as he stumbled and went down on one knee. Remus kept them both upright, but Severus leaned heavily against Harry's side.

"How badly are you wounded?" he asked, hearing the fear in his own voice. Seeing all the blood on the ground he felt as if he were re-living the other night when he'd come home to find Severus cutting the Dark Mark from his arm. He was afraid he was going to be sick.

"I'll live," Severus growled. "You need to get out of here. Albus, get him out of here."

Harry turned to take in the situation, his mind moving rapidly. At the moment Sirius, Alrik, Albus, and Lucius stood between Severus and the crowd of men waiting to duel. And while Harry didn't really understand what was prompting all this, he knew it had something to do with him. These men had come for Severus because he was married to Harry. And while the rest of them could all leave, the moment the next gauntlet was tossed down, Severus was honor bound to fight -- no matter how disgraceful it was of these men to challenge him like this one after another. Disgraceful or not, it was perfectly legal. Severus could not leave until the last challenge was met -- nor could Sirius if he was acting as Second. The most anyone could do to help was heal Severus' wounds while Sirius traded off with him and took his place in the next fight. From the looks of things the two of them had already fought several opponents.

There was nothing any of them could do. . . unless the next challenge was never issued.

Rage welled up inside Harry, his magic burning in his veins with the onslaught of emotions. It broke loose, surging through the hallway like a great wind. These men were no different than Minister Fudge and his mad manipulations to control Harry's life; they were no different than the reporters who hounded Harry's every step; they were no different than Voldemort who felt he had the right to destroy anyone who got in his way. They were interfering in his life when they had no right -- threatening him and his family -- he wanted them gone.

"Go away!" he shouted at the waiting duelers, his magic amplifying his voice into a deafening roar. And as if his voice had physical form it picked up every last one of those men, carried them into the air above the heads of rest of the onlookers and flung them with bone-breaking force all the way down the hallway to crash into the far wall. They fell into a moaning pile of broken and twisted limbs.

The looks of shock and terror on the onlookers face was almost gratifying to see -- but Harry was beyond caring at this point. He felt completely drained -- whether from the stress of the day or the wandless spell he had just cast -- he was certain he could not bear another moment in this building. "I want to go home," he said to Dumbledore, and the old wizard nodded his head in agreement.

Remus and Alrik pulled Severus to his feet, Sirius and Diana moving to help Harry who they could see was exhausted. With the Aurors and surprisingly Lucius Malfoy baring the hall behind them and holding back anyone who might follow them, Dumbledore hurried them all down the hallway toward the elevators beyond. Madam Bones rushed to catch up to them. "There's a floo in the Minister's office," she informed them. "You can take it back to Hogwarts and avoid the main corridor."

Thanking her, Albus led the way.

----------------------------------------

Severus allowed Remus to help him onto a bed in the infirmary as Albus called for Madam Pomfrey to attend to them. Black sat down on the bed next to him, looking as exhausted as he felt -- none of the fights the two of them had fought had been easy. They both were more than a match magically for all the duelers -- but dueling wasn't about simple strength of spell. A weaker Wizard could make up for his magic with his sword -- and some of these men had been world-class swordsmen. Severus had the wounds to show for it.

Despite the aches and pains of his body, he found himself watching Harry, unable to take his eyes from the boy. Over and over again the young man's display of magic left him gaping -- that the most impressive displays were almost always emotion-driven and uncontrollable was not lost on him. An angry Harry Potter was a dangerous thing.

But right now it was the look of desperate worry in those green eyes that held him so captivated. The boy was afraid for him -- perhaps he had looked at Severus like this the other night as well, though he could not remember the events clearly enough to know?

"We're fine, Harry," Sirius told him, seeing the same thing in Harry's eyes.

For a moment Severus wanted to kick himself -- he should have said that, not Black. Instead of basking in the concept that someone was genuinely worried for him, he should have been attempting to ease his mind -- that was the decent thing to do, the good thing to do, the Gryffindor thing to do. Severus was seriously beginning to doubt he'd ever get the hang of this whole relationship thing.

"What have the two of you gotten yourself into now?" Poppy's voice caught all their attention. The older woman bustled into the room, wand drawn as she took in the blood dripping from the two men. A quick assessing glance seemed to assure her that neither were in imminent danger of dropping dead any moment, and she turned her sharp gaze on Harry instead. He was standing at the foot of Severus' bed, Diana beside him with her arm still draped around his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Severus didn't have the heart to tell her that Harry would find the gesture too foreign to truly gain any comfort from it.

Whatever Poppy saw in Harry's face seemed to alarm her more than the blood. "Don't tell me you have been fighting as well, Mr. Potter?" she demanded, taking hold of Harry's arm and pulling him toward Sirius' bed. She sat him down on the edge next to his godfather and Severus noticed how pale the boy truly looked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "They're wounded -- not me."

Poppy ran her wand over Harry's body, scanning him quickly before shooting a rather pointed stare at Albus.

"He showed us yet another rather gifted display of wandless magic a few moments ago," Albus told the medi-witch.

Poppy sighed and shook her head. "You're sixteen years old -- your body is not mature enough to channel the amount of magic you seem to fling about with ease. Wait a few more years before you continue in this manner -- even Albus was in his thirties before he started doing such things."

"Is he alright?" Severus demanded in alarm. He knew it was unusual for someone as young as Harry to do the things he did -- it was unusual for anyone to do the things he did.

"He's fine," Poppy assured him. "Just exhausted -- as anyone would be after all the things he's done these last few days." She turned her wand toward Severus then, scanning his wounds and setting about stopping the bleeding. She stopped mid scan however and glared at Severus. "According to my scan you have recently lost a large amount of blood and taken a Blood Replenishing potion. Care to explain?"

Severus saw the look of alarm Harry threw him, and he gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "No, I would not care to explain," he informed the medi-witch. "If you would just heal the wounds I currently have. . ."

"Don't take that tone with me, Severus Snape!" she snapped at him, sounding far more put out than normal. Severus took a moment to study the woman's face -- he hadn't noticed but Poppy looked exhausted. He was reminded suddenly that she had been the first line of triage these last few days when they'd been bringing in the wounded people from the Quidditch Pitch. No wonder she was so on edge.

"It was nothing, Poppy," he said in lieu of an apology. "There was enough to worry about these last few days without worrying about this."

The woman just sighed and ordered both Severus and Sirius to remove their surcoats and undershirts so that she could deal with their wounds. Severus also had a rather nasty cut on his calf -- Clovis had attempted to hamstring him. A few inches higher and he would have succeeded. Alrik aided him in pulling off his boot -- it squelched as it was removed. The blood had pooled in it. Seeing the severity of the wound, Poppy ripped his pant leg open from the bottom and set about healing that wound first. Diana stepped in to act as nurse -- cleaning up all their wounds so that Poppy could tend to them swiftly.

"Why did those men challenge you?" Harry asked as Poppy worked.

Severus exchanged a long look with Sirius -- he had no desire to explain the situation to Harry. He could see that Black did not want to either.

Their silence however was answer enough for Harry. "It was because of me, wasn't it?" he demanded. Still receiving no response he pressed on. "Because you're married to me?"

"Harry," Severus sighed, wanting to stop the boy for he took all the blame upon his shoulders once again. But Harry cut him off -- apparently not wanting to be appeased.

"What are they thinking?" he demanded. "Do they think that if they kill you, I'll be free to marry again? That I'd choose one of them?"

"Not one of them," Severus told him, confirming his statement. "They were hired to get rid of me."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger. "Hired by whom?"

"There's no way to know," Remus told him. "We can guess -- but none of them would tell us. Truth is, anyone in the world could have hired them. They were likely sent by prominent Wizards and Witches from all over the world."

"What do they think?" Harry asked again, his eyes glittering with emotion. "That I would just accept this? That I wouldn't care. They think they can just play games with my life -- with all our lives? Do they care so little about what is really going on in the world that my marriage could be so important?"

"You saw for yourself what they care about in the International Trade Chamber," Albus told him gently, and Severus wondered what he had missed. "Indeed your little speech to them brought home quite clearly what you felt was important -- though I suspect it was too subtle for many of them catch."

"Speech?" Severus demanded, wondering if he had missed yet another one of Harry's bombshells during his sojourn into the Guild.

Albus briefly outlined what had happened, Diana and Alrik filling in what he left out. He also couldn't help but note the description of how Lucius Malfoy had aided Albus in keeping the foreign attention deflected from Harry, rather than using the opportunity to his own advantage instead. Indeed Sirius and Remus both listened intently to that.

But the mention of Malfoy was more than Sirius could stand and he finally asked the one question that weighed the most heavily on Severus' mind. "Harry, what was up with that? I mean Malfoy? You know you can't trust him! After what he did to Remus!"

"Sirius!" Remus cut in, stopping the man from speaking further. Indeed as he'd spoken Harry had wilted, his shoulders sagging, his head bowing. The look of weary resignation on his face was enough to stop Black from continuing.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sounding for all the world like the sixteen-year-old boy he was instead of the other-worldly stranger they had all seen in the Wizengamot Chamber. "I don't know how to explain it. I just knew. I just knew that I . . ." he broke off as if at a loss for words.

"You said you saw something, Harry," Remus prompted gently. "You said you saw what he wanted -- that it was ahead of him down a path."

"Aventine said you cast a geis on him," Sirius added.

"A geis?" Harry asked in confusion, obviously not knowing the word.

"You set his foot upon the path of destiny," Albus offered a possible translation of the word.

Harry frowned at that. "No," he said simply. "He set his own foot upon the path. I simply showed him where it was."

"And you expect him to just blithely follow it and behave now?" Severus demanded.

"Behave?" Harry sounded baffled by the idea. "I don't think he's capable of behaving. But he won't step off the path; he can't."

"Then you did cast a spell on him?" Sirius asked.

But again Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't need to. He promised when he accepted the seat. His promise will hold him -- like a wizard's oath."

They all exchanged quick glances, none of them knowing what to say. "Harry," Sirius said softly. "He didn't make any promises."

"Yes, he did," Harry insisted.

"Harry, we were all there," Sirius insisted. "He didn't make any promise. He didn't speak any oath."

"Yes, he did," Harry answered again. "I heard him. I saw it bind him."

"You saw it, Harry?" Albus demanded, and they all looked at the old man in surprise -- his tone of voice was sharp and he was staring hard at the boy as if trying to work out a puzzle. "You saw his Strand of Fate, his Path of Destiny?"

His words were very deliberate and Severus remembered suddenly where he had heard them before: Valentine's Day -- when he'd shown Albus the Heartstone that Harry had given him. Those were the very same words Albus had used to describe the power that the Eye of Odin had possessed.

Severus' heart began pounding in alarm -- he knew that look on Dumbledore's face. Albus believed completely now that Harry was the Eye of Odin -- or at least possessed its powers.

Harry stared at the old man for a long moment in silence, and then suddenly cocked his head to one side as if listening to something the rest of them could not hear -- they had all seen that motion before.

"Who are you listening to, Harry?" Albus demanded, as he had the other day when Harry had begun to speak to some invisible ravens the rest of them could not see.

He boy blinked and gave Albus an odd look. "Do you think I'm mad?" he asked.

Dumbledore was quick to shake his head. "No, Harry, I don't," he answered without hesitation. "But I am frightened by what this might mean for you."

If Albus was frightened, Severus was terrified, and he could tell by the look in Black's eyes that the feeling was mutual. He may have healed the dark wound that the Elder Demon had left in Harry's mind, but he could see now that there was some greater power still at work in Harry's life. Whatever it was, it was changing him, pulling him farther and farther away from all things familiar -- leaving him to walk upon a path that Severus wasn't certain he could even find, let alone walk with him.

He wasn't going to lose him -- he swore it to himself. He would not let Harry go. He would not let the world take him away from him -- he would not let Destiny take him away. He certainly was not going to let two mythical ravens take him away. If he had to bind Harry to him with every spell known to man he would!

The boy turned then and looked at Remus, and in an instant that other-worldliness had vanished, leaving behind just a boy who looked heartbreakingly sad. Harry reached out and caught hold of Remus' wrist, capturing the werewolf's completely attention.

"After what he did to you, Lucius Malfoy did not deserve a second chance," he stated plainly. "I did not give him a second chance because he deserved it. I gave it to him because I could. Because enough bad things have already happened, and I saw a chance to do something good. I saw hope -- hope for him, hope for Draco, hope for all the people he has the potential to help. This wasn't about him being good -- it was about him getting what he wants, and this is his only way of ever obtaining it. He knows that now and he will not pass up the opportunity. If you believe in nothing else, believe in a Malfoy's greed."

Severus' heart hurt as he listened to Harry's words. Despite everything --the inexplicable powers, the strange bouts of wisdom, the other world that seemed to be reaching out to claim Harry -- he was still just a boy who apparently believed he needed their forgiveness for dealing with a responsibility they had no right to give him in the first place.

Remus seemed to understand this as well, for he smiled at the boy and nodded his head. Black, still sitting beside Harry, slipped an arm around his shoulder in response.

"Harry," Sirius asked. "You said you could see what he wanted -- that it wasn't power or prestige. What was it?"

"Same thing everyone wants," Harry sighed. "He wants to matter."

"What?" Sirius asked in confusing.

"He wants his life to matter, to mean something," Harry explained. "Right now it doesn't -- right now he is nothing more than a storage vessel for Voldemort's power, one of many. He doesn't mean anything to anyone -- he is of no value to anyone, not even his own son."

Severus flinched at Harry's words -- was that true for all who bore the Dark Mark, he wondered? Is that all they were -- storage vessels?

A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder and he looked up in to Albus' reproachful eyes. The old man knew exactly what he was thinking, and he had to force those thoughts from his mind. Harry did not mean him -- he and Lucius Malfoy were nothing alike. He mattered to Albus -- he mattered to Harry. He was certain of that -- the worry in Harry's eyes had spoken volumes. Once Harry's concern would have been reserved for Black alone, but now he was included as well. He was Harry's family. And if he could just find a way to get that bloody Mark off his arm, perhaps he could become something more.

-------------------

Author's Notes: I'll try to clear up some of the questions that were asked in the last set of reviews.

Geis/Geas -- both spellings are correct. "Geis" is the Irish spelling of the word, and more closely translates to the concept I was going for. The word shows up in most European mythologies but has a dozen different meanings. The one found in Irish mythology is the closest to what I wanted.

The Black Conscriptus: I said in an earlier chapter that when an Heir became the Head of House he/she had only a small window of opportunity in which to change the Conscriptus. That window opens when the new Head of House is legal able to enter the Department of Bloodline Inheritance. If the heir is under age, the window opens the moment he comes of age. In Sirius' case -- he became heir while in Azkaban. While locked up and while on the run he could not 'legally' enter the Department. His window officially opened the moment Harry had him declared innocent.

The tattoo: lots of people have asked why doesn't Harry have the heir tattoo if he is Sirius' heir? And since he is also the Head of the House of Potter, why doesn't he have the Potter tattoo? The tattoos are traditional, not mandatory. The Potters were not a traditional family and did not tattoo their heirs. James did not have one, and would not have given his son one. Also Sirius declared Harry his heir when he was made godfather -- James was still alive then. He would not have allowed his son to be tattooed with the Black crest. Furthermore at the time Sirius was only an Heir himself -- he did not become Head of House until his parents died which I claimed happened while he as in Azkaban.

Arthur and Bill don't have tattoos either (the Weasleys broke their Conscriptus long ago). Only traditional families use the tattoo -- many of Harry's classmates have them, like Neville and Draco. I haven't decided if I'm going to have Remus get one or not yet. Also, now that Remus has been cured of Lycanthropy, he and Sirius may decide to have children of their own. (And yes I still refer to Remus as a werewolf even though he's been cured -- it just seems rude to call him a hellhound.)

Next Up: all you Snarry shippers will be happy with the next chapter (I'm still writing it). Severus and Harry finally get to have one of the many long over due conversations -- and Severus actually (finally!) manages to make some progress in their relationship.


	72. Chapter 72 Moving Forward

Chapter 72 Moving Forward

It was well past lunch by the time Harry and Severus flooed from the Hospital Wing to their own rooms, neither of them wanting to walk through the halls and risk running in to any of the other students. Harry was tired of being stared at, tired of answering questions, and Severus couldn't blame him at all. To top all that, both of them were bloodstained -- Harry had gotten a great deal of blood on his own clothes when he'd rushed to Severus' aid. And certainly Severus' clothing had seen better days.

Harry made tea, while Severus went to clean up first in the shower. He knew the boy was unsettled, and probably wanted to talk to him further. Truth was they had so much to talk about that Severus hadn't a clue where to start. He understood now why Harry had done what he'd done with Malfoy, but it didn't change the fact that he was still worried about what Lucius Malfoy might do if he had any access at all to Harry. Harry might trust the Paths of Destiny -- but Severus did not.

Once he was cleaned and dressed in his usual black teaching robes, he let Harry have the bathroom to clean up himself. While waiting, Severus ordered some lunch from the overeager Dobby who seemed to second guess their needs before he asked. The lunch was waiting on the coffee table practically before he was finished ordering.

Severus fished the notebook Aventine had given him out of the inner pocket of his ruined robe, along with the shrunken scrolls he'd retrieved from the Guild. He was relieved that none of them were damaged -- he'd completely forgotten about them while he'd been dueling. He thumbed through the notebook briefly, recognizing the unreadable squiggles lining the pages from Slytherin's diaries. The handwriting was different, but the characters were the same -- all of it completely indecipherable. He couldn't help but wonder when Harry would find time to translate this -- he barely had time these days to go class. And yet he knew the boy would make time -- he had promised the Vampire aid, and he wasn't the type of person to break such a promise. With a sigh, Severus set the book and the notes aside for later.

Hungry from the exercise he'd gotten that morning, Severus sat tiredly on the couch and started in on the sandwiches Dobby had delivered, wincing slightly when his leg twinged in pain. Poppy had healed his wounds, but it would be several days before the tenderness vanished. His mind flicked briefly over the duels he'd fought -- Clovis had been the hardest of all of them, though they had all been challenging. And he had to admit that Black had done a good job despite the fact that he doubted the man had fought any sort of duel since prior to his imprisonment. Much as he hated to admit it, Lupin's supposedly accidental manipulation of the shields protecting the spectators had been hilarious. Merlin knew he'd been on the receiving end of the Marauders' pranks often enough -- it was nice to finally benefit from them.

He couldn't help but replay the moment Harry intervened over in his mind -- the young man's power was frightening at times, particularly when it got away from him the way it did. Oddly enough however he suspected that Harry's intervention might end up causing him more problems in the long run -- no doubt by morning the world would know exactly what Harry Potter felt about anyone challenging his bondmate to a duel. Rather than risk his wrath again, he suspected they'd just send assassins next time. He should have been more careful, he supposed -- but he honestly hadn't expected to be challenged so soon or so openly.

Taking a second sandwich he glanced up as Harry emerged from their bedroom. Dressed once again in his school robe, the boy sat down across from him and grabbed a sandwich for himself. They ate in silence for a few moments, and Severus took careful note of how little the young man ate. Apparently the stress of the day had robbed him of his appetite.

Harry looked pensive and was gazing hard at the chicken sandwich in his hands as if it held the secrets of the universe. Severus couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind -- he almost laughed at the thought. There was so much -- the attack of the Elder Demon, finding himself declared King, the Calling, the events at the Ministry -- was it any wonder the boy looked so lost in thought?

He moved his gaze over Harry's face, noting the faint shadows beneath the thoughtful green eyes, and the way Harry chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He found his gaze lingering overly long on that bottom lip, struck with the sudden urge to soothe it with his own lips.

Instead he moved his gaze to the boy's hands -- Harry was slowing shredding his sandwich, tearing the crust from the bread, piece by piece. But despite the nervous gesture, Severus was relieved to note that his hands were not shaking, showing no signs of the possible nerve damage the Elder Demon had caused him. He hoped Harry was not still being bothered by the memory -- even faded as it would be now it was still horrific. What new nightmares might be waiting for him?

His gaze swept over Harry's face again, noting the paleness of the handsome features he'd grown so fond of, and the way his untamed hair framed his face. It wasn't right for someone so young to look so stressed, and he wished he knew what to say to him. He had no idea what was going through Harry's thoughts -- what sort of heavy emotions might be churning in his heart. He searched around frantically for some words that might breach the distance between them and start the conversation they needed to have -- or at least one of the conversations. He supposed they should probably talk about the Dark Mark on his arm and what had happened the other night. Or perhaps it would be better to begin with--

"Is it because we haven't consummated our marriage?" Harry asked suddenly, catching Severus completely off guard and throwing his own thoughts into chaos.

Severus stared at him for a moment, his mind trying to catch up -- had they started a conversation without him knowing about it? He set down his half eaten sandwich afraid he'd choke on it if Harry was going to persist in asking question like that. "What?" he asked for clarification.

A faint flush suffused Harry's skin. "Those men who attacked you -- the duelers. Is it because our marriage isn't valid? Does everyone know, or do they just suspect? Would they still have challenged you if it was valid?"

Oh, dear Merlin! Severus stared at Harry, torn by how to answer such a question. That's what he was thinking about? Out of all the things that should be going through his head he was worried about the damned duels?

And then a purely Slytherin thought struck him, causing his body to react with a sudden swell of arousal. It would be so easy -- so easy!-- to just say yes. He could almost predict exactly what Harry would do with that knowledge -- offer himself up as a virgin sacrifice. The Gryffindor in him would not be able to do anything else. And in all fairness, didn't Severus deserve some compensation for the insanity he'd been through? It wasn't asking too much -- was it? Bloody hell -- Harry might as well have offered food to a starving man.

"No," Severus finally said, mentally kicking himself as he fought to tamp down on his arousal. He hated being noble! Hated it! "They decided to bypass the issue entirely and just kill me. If I'm dead it doesn't matter if the marriage is valid or not."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. "Why did you hesitate?" he asked, setting his sandwich back down on his plate.

"What?"

"When you answered, just now, you hesitated. Why? If that's not the reason, why did you hesitate?"

Severus stared at him in shock -- he didn't believe him? He thought he was lying to spare . . .what? His virtue?

"I hesitated, Harry, because deep down no matter how noble I pretend to be, I'm still a Slytherin at heart and it's almost impossible for me not to take advantage of a situation when you leave me an opening like that!"

Harry's eyes widened at his outburst. "Take advantage?" he repeated in confusion.

Severus glared at him -- he couldn't possibly misunderstand his meaning, could he? And then he saw Harry's pale cheeks darken with color as Severus' words finally sank in.

"Oh," Harry exclaimed. "You want to have sex with me."

Severus let out a sigh of exasperation. He wished he had some clear idea what Harry thought of such things -- but understanding Gryffindors had never been his specialty. As it was he was fairly certain that there were a number of misconceptions floating around in Harry's mind. "Whatever gave you that impression?" he asked sarcastically, resorting to a familiar defense -- mockery.

But far from reacting with the predictable flush of anger, Harry just stared intently at him. "And what happens when I turn seventeen?"

The question threw Severus for a loop again -- why were conversations with Gryffindors so damned hard to follow? What could Harry's age possibly have to do with the reason Severus had been challenged to those duels?

"I image all your little friends will throw you a birthday party," he exclaimed. "What do think will happen?"

"Don't you want an annulment?" Harry asked.

His words hit Severus like a shock of cold water. "An annulment?" Severus hissed, fury roaring to life in his heart at even being asked such a question. He tried to calm himself -- Harry couldn't really understand what he was saying after all. He understood so little about their culture -- no doubt he'd been assured by some well-meaning friend that an annulment was perfectly acceptable, harmless even. Never mind the shame it would bring down upon Severus and his family name -- to be set aside as unsuitable, to be publicly declared unfit or incapable of bonding. Certainly an annulment would be perfectly legal -- and no doubt Harry's reputation would not suffer for such a thing. But Severus would not be so fortunate -- it would destroy his good name. Had he been so poor a spouse that he would wish that upon him? "Where did you get an idea like that!"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I don't know. . .things you've said, things Hermione said--"

"I don't discuss my private life with Hermione Granger!" Severus snarled. "And I certainly have never brought the subject up! Why would you think that?" He violently shoved the coffee table out of his way as he stood, intent on reaching Harry, feeling an uncontrollably need to shake some sense into him.

Harry leaped to his feet, alarm flashing through his eyes as he backed away from him. And yet despite his obvious fear, the young man pointed his finger at him accusingly anyway. "You said. . . you said. . .I don't remember what you said! But you didn't want to have sex because of an annulment!"

Didn't want to have sex? Severus felt his teeth grinding together -- that at least was one misconception he could clear up. Advancing on him with slow deliberate steps, Severus glared. "I would have taken you that first night if I'd thought you'd be up for it," he told him.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "You didn't even like me then!" he protested, still backing away, moving toward the center of the room as if afraid of being trapped against a wall.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're a very attractive young man," Severus growled, enjoying the look of outrage on the young man's face. Harry looked incensed by the idea. He felt a grim twist of satisfaction at that.

"You'd have sex with someone you don't like just because they're attractive?" Harry demanded.

"I've had sex for a lot less reason than that -- believe me!" Severus told him, only vaguely regretting the flinch he saw at those words. He knew the Gryffindor didn't like to hear such things spoken of in such a casual, unfeeling manner -- but he was so enraged at the moment he didn't care. "Is this what you've been planning -- wait until you turn seventeen and then annul our marriage, toss it aside like some worthless responsibility that we're both better off rid of? Maybe I've been too indulgent with you. Is this your backwards way of telling me that this is what you want?"

"I never said--" Harry protested.

"You never say what you mean!" Severus shouted at him. "If you want out of this marriage you tell me, you tell me right now! Fudge is out of office, he's in jail! The threat from him is gone! So you tell me what you want!"

Harry was staring at him in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock, vaguely glassy looking as Severus demanded a response. And then the boy did the most unGryffindor-like thing he'd ever seen him do -- he turned tail and ran toward the door.

Panic and rage flooded Severus at the thought that Harry was leaving for good; he wasn't about to let him get away. He leaped after him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him back, spinning him around. He didn't even think as he hooked a leg behind Harry's legs and swept his feet out from underneath him, bearing him down to the ground. "I won't let you go!" he shouted at him as he pinned Harry's hands to the ground, above his head.

He kissed the young man, stealing his breath as he captured his lips, forcing his tongue inside his mouth, forcing him to respond. When Harry struggled and tried to move away, he pinned him down with the full force of his weight, roughly shoving his legs apart by thrusting one of his own between them. At that point Harry's struggles only brought their hips into perfect alignment, and he ground down against him, seeking some relief from months and months of sexual frustration.

He heard the muffled exclamation of shock from Harry as that blissful fire overtook him, and he devoured the young man's mouth. The heat of Harry's body beneath his own was perfect -- so damned perfect, the taste of his mouth pure heaven. And he could feel the churning energies of Harry's magic swirling around him, rising up to embrace him, consuming him. He wanted him so badly, so desperately -- he'd never let him go, never let him leave him.

Harry moaned, and Severus moved against him again, wanting to hear more sounds like that, letting a friction build between them. He felt his own magic rising to answer the call that Harry's magic was sending out, desperate to merge and meet it -- he'd never had a lover he'd even been temped to join his magic with. He wanted this, needed this -- Harry could understand that -- he wouldn't fight him, not really. He'd give in, he'd accept Severus -- he should have accepted him long ago. He cared -- he knew he cared! And so what if if the heavy coils of silver that kept the Dark Mark contained were heating up!

Severus wanted to roar in rage at the reminder of the hold the Dark Lord held over him -- he didn't know how the Mark would react to a bond! He still didn't know if it would hurt Harry! He couldn't risk this -- but he didn't want to stop!

But the presence of the Mark brought back another memory and he realized in a moment of cold terror that he'd been in this exact same position the other night. He'd held Harry pinned to the ground and had tried to force himself on him -- tried to rape him!

He stiffened and drew back, staring down at Harry in horror. The young man beneath him was breathing hard, his lips swollen, his eyes passion glazed -- and it was obvious, painfully obvious, that he was aroused. But Severus could also see the look of fear in those green eyes -- he knew Harry was remembering the same thing, remembering the same moment. There might be no blood staining the floor this time -- but the similarities were too close to be ignored. It was also obvious that Harry didn't know what to do, trapped in shocked indecision which left him shaking and terrified.

Severus cursed himself in silence -- were they doomed to repeat the same mistake over and over again -- one step forward, two steps back! Was he such a horrible human being that he could do nothing right by this young man who'd somehow become the center of his universe? Did he have to destroy everything good in his life?

Not this time, he told himself. Not this time!

He let his body sag against Harry's, burying his face against the young man's neck, breathing hard as he tried to overcome the demons raging inside him. The young man held himself completely still, taut with tension.

"It's alright, Harry," he whispered softly, soothingly, pressing his lips gently against the pale skin just below Harry's left ear. The body beneath his shuddered at the sensation. "It's alright. You know I won't hurt you."

Very slowly he released the pressure on Harry's wrists, carefully easing his hands away and releasing his arms. Instead he moved one hand to Harry's head, gently carding his fingers through his hair as he continued to whisper comforting words to him, soothing him. He kissed the pale skin of Harry's neck again, repeatedly, moving his lips feather-light along his jaw, tasting his skin briefly as he spoke simply because he could not help himself. Beneath him he could feel Harry's pounding heart beginning to slow, the panic ebbing as Severus continued the soft strokes of his hair. He knew Harry liked his voice and he used it to his advantage, murmuring to him in low deep tones, as if trying to calm a wild animal.

With each word he uttered, each gentle kiss, he felt some of the tension in Harry's body slowly melting away. When he felt tentative hands touch his back, he almost sobbed in relief. Against all odds Harry had lifted his arms and cautiously embraced him. He kissed the young man's cheek. "You know I'd never hurt you, Harry, don't you?" he asked, willing him to answer. The wait was agonizing.

"Yes," Harry said after a moment, his voice shaking.

Severus drew back so that he could stare down into those confused green eyes once again. The scar on Harry's forehead stood out in stark contrast to the flush in the young man's face. "You know you're magically stronger than me," he reminded the young man. "You could lift me off you and fling me across the room with a thought."

Something dark and painful moved within those green eyes. "I don't want to hurt you," Harry admitted, looking torn by the thought.

Severus mentally cursed himself -- the boy was literally incapable of fighting back against anyone he cared about. It was one of the reasons why the Dursleys had been capable of hurting him so deeply all those years -- he couldn't bringing himself to fight back, even though he knew he was stronger than all of them. Severus never wanted to put him in a situation again where he felt torn between his own well being and stopping someone he cared about from hurting him. Because he knew the boy cared -- had for a long time now. He didn't know if he loved him -- maybe he would never be worthy of such feeling -- but Harry considered him family.

"Then we have that in common, Harry," Severus told him, hoping he could salvage this moment. The fact that Harry had not pushed him away was encouraging.

Leaning down, he kissed Harry lightly on the lips, heard the soft gasp of surprise even as Harry's hands tightened against his back. But he was not pushed away. He kissed him again, catching the young man's bottom lip between his teeth and sucking gently on it, before moving away from his mouth to nibble a soft line along the young man's jaw. He heard Harry's breath catch in his throat, but still he did not struggle or attempt to push him away, his hands splayed against Severus' back.

Severus ran his fingers down the side of the young man's face, stroking his skin, and this time when he gently titled Harry's face toward him, he accepted his kiss. When he ran his tongue along the seam of Harry's mouth, the young man parted his lips and allowed him inside, tentatively stroking his own tongue against his, hesitant at first and then with more enthusiasm as the moments passed.

Severus kissed him slowly, and deeply, languidly tasting his mouth, feeling drugged by the sweet heat building between them. But he kept his body completely still -- focusing Harry's entire attention on the kisses alone, never allowing it to go any further than that. When he felt Harry's fingers tentatively touch his hair before threading through his black locks he wanted to crow in delight, his heart swelling with joy.

Eventually he had to stop, had to pull away before he became too carried away once again -- he still didn't know what to do about the Dark Mark. He also knew he couldn't simply go back to the hands-off relationship he'd had with his bondmate all these months.

"Can we start over, Harry?" he asked softly, watching the young man's face for any sign of what he was feeling. Harry's green eyes were strangely peaceful for the first time in months.

He saw confusion flit across Harry's sharp features. "Start over? The conversation?" he asked.

Severus shook his head -- if he had his way they would never repeat this conversation. "Our relationship," he clarified.

The confusion just mounted. "I don't understand?"

Severus searched his mind for a good way to begin this. "Will you go out with me?" he asked -- he was fairly certain he had never asked anyone such a question. Slytherins as a general rule did not date -- they had sex together, they occasionally arranged opportunities in which they were seen together if it was mutually advantageous, but they didn't simply date.

"On a date?" Harry looked even more confused. "We're already married."

"I know that," Severus nodded. "But we don't seem to be managing the romance part very well."

"Romance?" Harry's eyes widened in wonder at that as he searched his face. Once again Severus wanted to kick himself -- Harry could accept the fact that he wanted to have sex with him, but seemed amazed that he might have any romantic feelings for him. Had he really managed to screw things up that badly that Harry thought he had no feelings beyond lust for him? The regret he suppressed earlier about his callous words regarding his reasons for having sex in the past reared up tenfold. He should not have said such a thing even in jest -- Gryffindors didn't understand such things.

"You want--" Harry began again as if trying to clarify Severus' question.

Severus touched his lips with his finger, silencing him for a moment. Merlin, the boy was beautiful! With his flushed cheeks, and his red swollen lips, and those haunting eyes framed with dark lashes -- how was he to keep his hands to himself?

"Forget about what I want, forget about what I said earlier. I'm asking you out on a date. I know we can't leave Hogwarts, but I can cook dinner for you. We can spend the evening talking to one another, I can teach you to dance -- without swords this time. We can go for a walk in the moonlight. I can kiss you goodnight when it's over." He was fairly certain that all those things satisfied a Gryffindor's concept of a date -- at least he hoped it did. Otherwise he was completely out of ideas.

"But we sleep in the same bed already," Harry reminded him -- as if he needed reminding. Severus understood what he was asking however. In Harry's mind any idea of intimacy with Severus felt like an all or nothing deal -- and Harry wasn't ready for that yet.

"I'll figure something out," he promised. "Just tell me if you'll try? Tell me if you'll go out with me?"

He could still see confusion in Harry's eyes, along with a fair bit of wonder. But the one thing Gryffindors were all brilliant at doing was taking a leap of faith -- even when everything told them not to. The young man nodded hesitantly and smiled. "Okay," he said simply.

Smirking in triumph -- he'd gotten something right at last -- Severus couldn't resist leaning down to steal another quick kiss from that mouth. Then he climbed to his feet, pulling Harry with him -- hard to believe he'd had one of his most potentially life-altering conversations while lying on the floor. He knew they both had to get going -- he had to go see what sort of damage Charlie Weasley had done to his classroom, and Harry had his own classes to go to -- but he wanted to make certain everything was settled first.

"This Friday night then?" he asked. If they didn't agree on a time for this proverbial date to take place, it might never happen.

Harry nodded again, though he was staring at Severus oddly. "Severus, you don't do walks in the moonlight."

"I'll have you know I walk in the moonlight all the time," Severus informed him, affecting a look of indignation. "Granted it's mostly to hand out detentions but it still counts."

Harry smiled at that, but he was still studying Severus intently. "You'd do this for me?" he asked softly.

Severus smiled sadly at him, knowing what it was the young man was truly asking -- knowing all the things he was not capable of asking. Life with the Dursleys had taught Harry that he wasn't worth the effort -- any effort at all. Sadly, Severus knew the feeling all too well. "Harry, I'd die for you," he told him honestly. "I'm doing this for me."

Those green eyes glowed with warmth, and for the first time, of his own free will, without any coercion or pressure from outside forces, Harry stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He lingered briefly, eyes closed, breath warm against Severus' face as if he was memorizing the sensation.

"Have a good day, Severus," he said at last, before backing away and slipping through the door.

Severus raised his hand to his lips, his entire body trembling in reaction. So this is what love felt like.

-------------------------------

Author's notes:

You know most of the time I'm just rambling in these Author's notes. I tell you things that you probably should know simply because if I didn't I would have to add it all to the story as exposition - -and there's enough of that as it is. However most of the info in these notes isn't really that important to the story itself -- but there are always readers who want to know it anyway.

So...regarding the whole annulment thing. Everything Hermione told Harry was technically correct, but there was a very good reason that Ron and Sirius both refused to discuss the subject. Even though legally acceptable (as apposed to divorce in the Wizarding World), it is still very rarely done. Even Sirius wouldn't mention it directly because he knows how insulting it would be to Severus. Severus has given Harry no reason to annul their marriage -- he's been as honorable and dutifully a bondmate as he can under the circumstances and even Sirius recognizes that fact. Obviously the idea of an annulment has crossed Severus mind before -- he's been worried about that 17 year mile marker, but he rather expected there to be an actual reason before Harry would ever bring it up -- such as telling him that he's fallen in love with someone else. But alas, Harry has gotten things backwards once again.

I'd also thought I'd mention some more art work I found. Yuuisan has drawn an wonderful picture of Severus carrying Harry from Hogsmeade after the attack (very early in the story). I really like the fact that she included the coils of silver around Severus' arm. You can find it at Deviant Art - do a search on "the marriage stone" and it should come right up, along with several others. Numerous people have also uploaded art to the Group on Yahoo (look in my profile for the address). I do love the art work!

P.S. Adrienne Elly kindly pointed out many of my typos so I re-edited this chapter and fixed several of them. Thank you!

P.P.S To those who asked, I have no idea how many more chapters there will be. I have the story laid out in my head in scenes -- and I never know if there will be one scene or five scenes per chapter (I try to make all the chapters between four and seven thousand words long). There is an end to the story -- I just don't know how many chapters it's going to take me to get there.


	73. Chapter 73 The Way the World Ends

Chapter 73 - The Way the World Ends

Harry made his way somewhat dazedly to Transfiguration Class. With each step he took he replayed the events of the last few minutes over and over in his head -- each heated glance, each mind blowing kiss, each slow caress of Severus' long graceful fingers. Severus really did have beautiful hands. He shivered, torn between giddy delight, mind numbing shock and skin burning embarrassment.

Oh, my god, he thought to himself, he'd just made out with the Potions Master. At least he thought that constituted 'making-out' -- he wasn't entirely certain about the specifics. Granted he'd always been led to believe that there was supposed to be a couch involved, and they'd been lying on the floor. But still -- it had felt like he'd always imagined it would -- better in fact.

Well, not at first, he thought. He'd been frightened at first since Severus had been so angry. He noticed he had a talent for making Severus angry.

But then something had changed -- he'd felt it the moment everything had shifted between them. And when Severus had begun whispering to him and kissing him so carefully and tenderly, something had just melted inside of him. He'd thought the few kisses they had exchanged before had been amazing -- but nothing had made him feel like this had. Coupled with the sound of Severus' voice -- did anyone else in the world have a voice as singularly sexy as Severus Snape -- Harry had simply surrendered utterly to the moment.

Why was it that though he tried to see himself as strong and aggressive, he always ended up feeling so turned on by the sensation of a powerful male body holding him down? Severus tended to dominate him the few times he'd kissed him -- even tonight when his aggression had vanished, replaced instead by something far sweeter, Severus had still been the one completely in control, overwhelming Harry's senses. And for some reason Harry's body responded to that energy. Just the mere thought of the way Severus manipulated him, controlled him, moved against him, his weight and heat pressing down into him -- Harry had to stop in the hallway to get himself under control. Bloody hell --- he could hardly walk into Professor McGonagall's classroom flushed and aroused.

The thought of Professor McGonagall seemed to do the trick for him and a moment later he continued his journey, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had gone. But this was probably normal, he told himself. This is what all the students his age were supposed to be thinking about -- certainly these sorts of things were what the boys in the dormitories discussed at night in rather crude terms.

Well, not this, exactly -- they certainly weren't talking about any of their teachers. Certainly not their Potions Master -- a year ago Harry would have been horrified by even the thought. Actually, come to think of it, he'd heard a number of students -- mostly girls of course -- talking about Remus Lupin during his third year. And certainly everyone talked about Sinistra. And a couple of weeks ago he'd heard a group of Hufflepuffs talk about how much they enjoyed it when Professor Snape loomed over them in Potions Class. Harry frowned.

It was definitely normal, he decided. He'd always felt a bit left out of the conversations the boys had in the dormitories. He'd never had the obsession with sex that other boys his age apparently had -- as if his hormones had never really kicked in. At least not until Severus had come along -- and then he'd been plagued with dreams he'd been completely unprepared for. The whole idea that he was interested in men had definitely caught him off guard -- add to that the idea that he apparently liked the rather aggressive, dominant nature of a certain Slytherin was really messing with his self image. Oh, lord, he thought, why wasn't there a play-book for this sort of thing like there was for Quidditch matches?

Reaching the classroom door he pulled it open and attempted to slip in silently. Class was already underway, and everyone turned to stare at him as he entered. Professor McGonagall, who was holding a heavy book in one hand and her wand in the other, peered sternly at him as he made his way toward the only empty seat available next to Neville.

"Glad you could join us, Mr. Potter," McGonagall remarked as every eye in the room followed him toward his seat. This was a joint Slytherin/Gryffindor class and he suspected that everyone in the room could guess where he'd been that morning and were probably dying to know what had happened. Certainly Draco looked ready to burst, and Ron and Hermione, sitting directly in front of Neville, were giving him looks of heavy inquiry.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he said to McGonagall. "Sorry I'm late."

She nodded and then continued on with her lecture. Apparently they were working on the complex transfiguration of changing pebbles into actual books. Neville shoved his own textbook toward Harry since Harry had walked out of his room without his school supplies.

Harry tried to listen to the lecture -- he really tried -- but all he could think about was what had happened with Severus. He had a date with Severus Snape, he thought almost gleefully. It occurred to him that a year ago such a thought would have filled him with horror. As it was he was having a rather hard time imagining it -- would it be like one of Ron's and Hermione's dates where they stared at each other with goofy expressions on their faces and held hands? He couldn't really picture it. He'd been quite serious when he'd said that Severus didn't do walks in the moonlight -- Severus Snape wasn't the sort of man to behave in such a foolish, romantic manner.

And yet, Severus had been the one who brought up the topic of romance in the first place. A sensation of warmth flooded through Harry at the thought -- he understood that Severus was doing all this entirely for his benefit, because he knew Harry couldn't think about any relationship in the terms more familiar to a Slytherin. But what if that was the only reason Severus was doing this? Harry frowned at the thought. What if Severus merely wanted to have sex with him and was willing to jump through whatever hoops he needed to get it?

But he hardly needed Harry for that, did he? Severus could find any number of people to have sex with if he was really that desperate -- certainly if that was all he was interested in he'd find someone more suitable to his tastes than one scrawny, backwards Gryffindor. For that matter if Harry really was who he wanted, he hardly needed to jump through the hoops -- Harry wasn't entirely certain he would have stopped Severus earlier if he hadn't stopped himself. Certainly his body had not wanted to stop regardless of the chaos in his mind and heart. Would he resist if tonight while they were lying in bed together Severus took him in his arms and started kissing him again?

He found himself shivering at the thought, his face growing hot. Thanks to all the conversations he'd had with various Weasleys, he had a fairly clear idea about what to expect -- or at least he understood the mechanics of sex between two men. But the reality of it was a bit overwhelming -- and he really had a hard time believing it wouldn't hurt. Bill and Charlie had both told him that if it was done right, it wouldn't hurt, not really -- but Harry had thought about it and couldn't really believe it. How could it not hurt?

Then again, Draco never seemed to be in any sort of pain after spending the night with Charlie. He found himself glancing over at the blond Slytherin who was dutifully coping down notes. Maybe he and Charlie weren't actually doing it, he reason -- or at least not that one specific thing. Some of the other things they'd described had sounded quite pleasant -- odd, but pleasant. And then he remembered the rather enthusiastic way Charlie had explained things and he shook his head -- no, they were definitely doing it.

Bloody Hell, he sighed. He knew he should have snuck into his cousin's room that one summer and stolen a peek at his porn collection while the family had been away. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so baffled by all this.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely even noticed when class ended and people began shuffling from the room. He was surrounded by Ron, Hermione and Draco almost immediately.

"So, how was it?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Harry found himself blanching at the question. What on earth? He hadn't said a word -- they couldn't possibly know what Severus had done, or what he'd been thinking about.

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed. "I hope it wasn't too painful."

Harry was fairly certain his face was growing redder by the moment. "What?" he squeaked in shock. "We didn't . . .I mean he. . ."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Potter," Draco demanded. "Give us all the details!"

The details! If there were a spell to make the floor open up and swallow him, Harry would have cast it immediately. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life enduring these utterly humiliating conversations about sex -- though why in Merlin's name was Ron asking such things in front of Hermione? Normally he freaked out when such subjects were brought up in mixed company.

"Harry," Hermione protested. "The Wizengamot -- what happened?"

Harry's thought screeched to a halt. The Wizengamot? Oh, my god, he thought to himself. He groaned and flushed in embarrassment -- he'd actually managed to block pretty much everything except his last conversation with Severus from his mind. Yes, he thought to himself, it was official -- he was a perfectly normal sixteen-year-old boy if the nature of his thoughts was anything to go on.

"Oh, that," he breathed a sigh of relief. Why did his life have to be so complicated?

"What did you think we were asking about?" Draco frowned in confusion.

"Don't ask," Harry mumbled to himself. "The Wizengamot -- it. . .they. . .oh, bloody hell, I don't know where to begin."

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice caught all their attention. "You and the others have Herbology. If you don't head down to the greenhouse now, you'll be late. I think you've missed enough class as it is. You had all best run."

They nodded guiltily to the teacher and headed out the door, rushing to catch up with their classmates who were already long gone from the hallway. As they ran Harry promised to tell them all the details of his morning after dinner when he'd have more time. Though frustrated by the delay, the three of them agreed and barely made it down to the greenhouse before Sprout started class.

As it was Harry had to groan when Professor Sprout announced that the plants they were studying that afternoon were all rather powerful aphrodisiacs, and were used in a number of love potions. It seemed his mind was doomed to wander down inappropriate paths for the rest of the day.

--------

The Daily Prophet issued an evening edition of their paper which was already making the rounds of Hogwarts by the time Harry and his friends made it downstairs for dinner. For the first time Harry was actually relieved to see the paper -- it saved him from having to explain the major details of the day's events to his friends as it was all spelled out in black and white in the pages of the Prophet. For once the stories in the Prophet were surprisingly accurate, and it occurred to Harry that the Press had not been allowed in to the Wizengamot chamber that day. The bulk of their stories had to come directly from the court transcripts instead of Quick Quills and the inaccurate ramblings of the various reporters.

Even the description of Severus' duels were surprisingly accurate -- Harry read the account in fascination since he'd only seen the end of the last duel. Apparently Severus and Sirius had both fought several different men prior to Harry's appearance. He guessed the details of the duels had come from several Aurors who'd witnessed the events and had filed official reports. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it would be possible to get rid of all the reporters and just stick with actual transcripts and Auror reports from now on.

The papers were making their way up and down the tables of the Great Hall and Harry was subjected to more than one stare of shock as the stories made their rounds. He glanced up at Severus at the head table, noting that the man was watching him intently, and he flushed under the scrutiny before turning his attention back to his own dinner. He was hungry tonight -- he'd skipped breakfast and had barely eaten anything at lunch. He flushed rather pleasantly when he remembered why he had been so distracted at lunch. He wondered what Severus had spent the day thinking about?

He had only taken his second bite of Shepard's Pie before his meal was interrupted by Hermione who pulled his plate away from him and slapped the paper down in front of him instead.

"I was eating that," he protested.

"What is this all about?" Hermione demanded, pointing fiercely toward the top article in the paper. Ron and the rest of his year mates were staring at him, most of them leaning forward so that they could hear whatever he might say. Across from them he could see the Slytherins all turning to watch him -- Draco had one of the papers in his hands and a look of utter shock on his face.

"What about it?" Harry shrugged. "It's pretty accurate for once. The Aurors hexed all the reporters so this came from the court transcripts, and I. . ."

"Harry," Hermione interrupted him. "You let Lucius Malfoy have a seat on the Wizengamot! Or in this case ten seats!"

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," Harry sighed. He felt a strange twinge of pain in his forehead -- a quiet dinner would have been nice for a change.

"The right thing to do?" Hermione asked in shock. "You give a position of power to one of the most prejudiced men in our country -- a man who'd like to do away with anyone not a pureblood. On one hand you give Werewolves and Vampires an equal say in our government and then turn around and pit them against someone like Lucius Malfoy. If there's one person in this world who doesn't deserve a say in our future it's Lucius Malfoy. After everything he's done he doesn't deserve a second chance, and that's exactly what you've given him."

Harry blinked in surprise, seeing how impassioned Hermione was about this subject -- even Remus and Sirius hadn't reacted so strongly. Looking around him at Ron who was staring pensively at him, and Neville who looked bewildered, and Seamus and Dean who looked as if he'd lost his mind, he had to sigh in frustration. It had been hard enough explaining all this to Severus, Remus and Sirius.

Across at the hall at other table he could see Draco watching him, wanting to understand as well -- though the Slytherin had a faint gleam of hope in his eyes that was lacking in everyone else. Charlie, seated at the head table was speaking urgently to Remus and Sirius, no doubt trying to figure out how this would effect his own future. Lucius Malfoy was his father-in-law after all.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly. "You're right, Lucius Malfoy didn't deserve a second chance. But I don't want to live in a world where people get what they deserve."

"You . . .what?" Hermione looked flabbergasted by what he'd just said. Indeed so did the others.

"Think about it, Hermione," Harry told her. "Do you really want to live in a world where people get exactly what they deserve? Because if you do, then that means that my parents deserved to die, Cedric deserved to die. All those people the other day deserved to be eaten by that creature."

Hermione blanched at his words. "Harry, that's not the same thing," she told him.

"It is the same thing," he insisted, frowning when his head flashed with pain again. "Bad things happen to people who don't deserve them. So do good things. And if I'm the one who has to decide which of those things someone should get, then I'm going to hand out the good things and hope they change so that they do deserve them."

He could see frustration mingled with disbelief on Hermione's face. "Hope?" she asked softly. "Hope that Lucius Malfoy will reform himself? Does that really seem likely, Harry?"

"Am I only to hope in things that are certain?" Harry asked her. "If that were the case I would have given up on the world long ago."

"You can't save everyone, Harry," Hermione told him. "It's not possible."

"I can try," Harry insisted, and distantly he thought he heard the sound of wings fluttering. "I have to try." Another sharp spike of pain shot through his forehead and this time he winced, raising his hand to touch his scar.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, and he felt Ron touch his arm.

"Harry, you okay, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," he nodded his head. "Just a headache." The Ravens were back and they were whispering urgently to him. He tried to tune out the hundreds of voices in the Great Hall to hear what they were saying.

"Harry?" Ron's voice sounded worried. "Do you want me to get Professor Snape or Sirius?"

"No, I'm . . ." Harry began, shaking his head, and then a wave of power rushed through him and he gasped in shock, his body stiffening as he latched onto a mind that was not his own. One moment he was sitting in the Great Hall and the next he was in some dark underground chamber, standing upon a burning sigil that was etched into the cold flagstones of the floor. He had only a moment to glimpse that sigil -- it was the mark the Elder Demon had etched all over the world in various locations, and superimposed over top of it was the familiar form of the Dark Mark.

He felt Voldemort's mind shift and move within him, felt his rage and his madness and his overwhelming satisfaction that at last it was all about to end. His reign over the earth was about to begin -- uncontested and eternal. His enemies were all already dead -- they just didn't know it yet.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort laughed. "Time's up."

And then Harry was back again in his own mind, back again in the Great Hall. He stood, scrambling away from Gryffindor table in horror. "That's it? That's the secret!" he shouted in horror, only vaguely aware that Ron and Hermione had risen with him and were reaching out to him, trying to calm him. He could feel blood dripping into his eyes as if his scar had split open. The Ravens were circling over head cawing to him, telling him to focus, telling him it was time.

Time's up -- time to die. It was such a simple thing, such a simple secret -- but the horror of what it would mean overwhelmed him.

He spun in shock, looking frantically around for help -- all the teachers at the head table had stood to their feet in alarm. His eyes locked with Dumbledore's. "Oh, God, help me!" he pleaded.

The old man had already drawn his wand, and was moving away from his chair, attempting to maneuver around the head table so that he could reach his side. Sirius had knocked over his own chair and was climbing directly over the table, and Severus -- he saw Severus doubling over, gasping in pain as he gripped his forearm where the Dark Mark was hidden by his robes. Over at Slytherin table two seventh year boys were holding their own forearms, hissing in agony as the hidden Marks on their own arms flared to life.

And then they all began falling, one by one like puppets whose strings had been cut.

Ron and Hermione, who were standing beside him, gripping his arms, gasped and slumped against him before sliding to the ground. Remus, who was trying to keep Severus upright, slipped beneath the head table. Sirius, who'd leaped over the table and was half way across the hall, stumbled and fell against the Ravenclaw table, knocking over several fourth year students who had already dropped face-first onto the table like the rest of their house mates. Hagrid's body shook the ground as he hit the floor beyond the head table. The entire house of Hufflepuff barely made a sound as they slumped against one another and stopped moving. The sound of daggers falling clattered through the hall as Slytherin House collapsed. Gryffindor House tumbled over like toy solders left out in the wind.

He heard the sound of wood striking the stone floor as Dumbledore's wand slipped from between his fingers. The old wizard stared at Harry in astonishment before he collapsed in a pile of flashing purple robes and snowy white hair.

This can not happen, Harry told himself as he stood alone in the unmoving hall. He could not allow this to happen. The Ravens were on his shoulders now, whispering into both his ears. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen bodies of Ron and Hermione, his hands splayed against the ancient flagstones of the floor.

"It's time," the Ravens told him and he saw images flashing through his mind, dreams coming back to haunt him. He remembered suddenly standing deep beneath Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets while Sirius Black transfigured the room Remus Lupin was sleeping in. He had touched their magical cores back then, had imagined that if he had just pushed he could have awakened Remus, quickened the life back into his veins, nullifying the magic of the Draught of the Living Death.

He reached out now with every sense he had, feeling for the magic around him. He could feel them all -- Ron and Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Severus, Dumbledore. Those signatures were all so familiar to him, so dear to him -- and beyond them, the other teachers, the other students, all of Ravenclaw with their cool intellect, and Hufflepuff with their airy warmth. Slytherin and Gryffindor were hot and fiery with passion both dark and light. He could feel them all -- even beyond the Great Hall where a few stray members of the castle were lurking.

"It's time," the Ravens told him. "Do it now."

Harry pushed with everything he had inside him. He pushed against all those magical signatures, sending a surge of his own magic pulsing through all their veins, quickening their hearts, breathing life back into their magical cores. The Ravens took flight, and Harry nodded in understanding, sending his mind with them.

"There," they told him. "You must travel there." And Harry could see the great lines of light upon the ground, spreading out in all direction, like a glowing spiderweb that encompassed the earth. These ley lines sprang up from a deep wellspring of power deep within the earth's magical core -- and of course it was the only option opened to Harry because he was just one sixteen-year-old boy after all and could not possibly possess the amount of power needed to do what must be done.

He pushed his mind farther outward, pushing his thoughts into those glowing lines of power, merging his own magic with them as he followed the Ravens into oblivion. He could feel the other minds now, all of them waiting for him, waiting for his touch to quicken their life. He pushed harder; his mind, his magic, his very soul spread out in all directions, moving farther and farther away from their point of origin, away from his body. He had to reach them all. They were calling to him now -- calling his name, calling to his magic. They had answered him when he had called to them that night at Stonehenge -- now it was his turn -- time to burn, time to bleed, time to spill out his soul to awaken the world.

He felt his mind spinning away from him, his magic burning his soul as he reached for them all. And there amid the brilliant glowing embers of his people were the shadows -- those with nothing inside them to touch, nothing inside them capable of reaching out to grasp even the smallest part of him.

"You must leave those," the Ravens told him, ordering him to turn away -- there was no hope down that path.

But there were so many of them -- so many -- and Harry could feel their thoughts surging through him. He could not leave them, could not leave any of them. But there was nothing inside them to quicken -- no ember to breathe back to full flame.

"Turn away!" the Ravens urged. "You cannot save them all!"

"I have to try!" Harry cried out. He pushed again, harder this time, abandoning his body and letting his mind sink utterly into the center of the earth.

------

Author's Note:

This was a very odd chapter to write -- it was fun writing Harry as a typical teen mentally giggling over his romantic interlude. Harry needed that desperately since for the first time in ages it felt 'normal' to him.

As for the second part of this chapter -- I mentioned this before when I wrote the chapter about the Elder Demon. When I first started this story it was just a light romance, but shortly into the second chapter something changed and this rather elaborate plot suddenly sprang to mind. I saw two major scenes in detail in my head and had absolutely no idea how I was going to get there. The first was the scene with the Elder Demon, and the second was this scene (actually this scene and the next chapter that follows). This is when I figured out exactly what it is that Voldemort had planned -- and I've been laying hints throughout the story. It was nice (for me) to finally get here -- these scenes have been haunting me for a while now.

I'm doing a 2 chapter update this week simply because the next chapter feels more like an interlude, but really needs to be connected to this last scene.

And yes -- the title of this chapter is a T.S. Eliot quote.


	74. Chapter 74 The Setting Sun

Chapter 74 -- The Setting Sun

Anna Granger shuddered violently as she woke with a start, momentarily disoriented when she realized she was slumped in a most undignified manner in her office chair. For one strange moment she would have sworn that Harry Potter was standing there in the room beside her but when she shook her head she realized that it was only old Mr. Paddison, sitting across from her in the visitor's chair set before her desk.

"My apologies, Mr. Paddison," she exclaimed in mortification -- had she actually fallen asleep while talking to the old man? She shook her head to clear the fog that still lingered in her mind before focusing her attention back on her client. The old man had managed to crack several teeth but was being stubborn about getting them repaired. She'd been trying to convince him that it wasn't cosmetic in nature -- it needed to be done for the overall health of his teeth.

"Mr. Paddison?" she said again when she realized that the man had not answered her. Frowning she stared at her client -- the old man was slumped in his chair, apparently as deeply asleep as she had been only moments ago.

Frowning, Anna rose from her seat and moved around her desk, reaching out to shake the old man's shoulder. When he did not stir, she shook him again harder. He slumped forward and she barely managed to catch him before he hit his forehead on her desk. "Mr. Paddison!" she cried in alarm, setting the man back in his seat. She shook him again, roughly this time as she called his name. Alarm washed through her when she still got no response.

Holding the man in place with one hand, she struck the intercom button on her phone. "Lisa! Something is wrong with Mr. Paddison. I need some help in here!"

When her secretary failed to answer, she struck the button again. "Lisa!" she called urgently. Though evening, it was still too early for her secretary to have gone home. Their offices stayed open until eight that evening.

When there was still no response, Anna quickly propped Mr. Paddison up in his seat, and then rushed toward the door. "Lisa!" she shouted as she yanked open the office door. Despite the hour, there were no sounds coming from the hallway beyond.

"Lisa? Kathy?" she called out to the dental hygienist who should be in the room next door cleaning Mrs. Bradford's teeth. Though the door was open she could hear nothing coming from the room.

Frowning worriedly back at Mr. Paddison, Anna stepped across the hallway and looked into the exam room. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight. Kathy was lying on the floor of the exam room, Mrs. Bradford dozing quietly in the dental chair.

"Kathy!" Anna exclaimed as she rushed to the woman's side, feeling immediately for a pulse at the woman's neck. Kathy was young and healthy and her heart was beating steadily beneath her fingers. Bewildered, Anna shook Kathy's shoulder and called her name. When she got no response, she stood up and shook Mrs. Bradford. But nothing she did woke either woman.

Panicking now, Anna rushed down the hall toward the main reception room where Lisa and the other secretary sat. She skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted her. Lisa was slumped over her desk, snoring quietly, as was the other secretary Monique, though she was holding the phone in her hand. Through the reception window Anna could see into the waiting room where three other people were waiting to be seen -- all of them were slumped in their chairs, unmoving. There was a little girl lying on the floor next to a small doll.

Frightened now, Anna began shaking the other women, trying to wake them. She could feel strong steady heartbeats, but nothing would stir them from their slumber.

A loud ding reverberated through the room and Anna jumped in shock. She stared at the elevator across the main reception room. A moment later the door slid open, and she let out a cry of relief when she saw Michael stepping out of the lift. Rushing through the side hallway she headed into the reception area to greet her husband. Michael stepped forward, maneuvering around the body of the little girl, and caught hold of Anna in a tight hug.

"Michael, they won't wake up!" she exclaimed in horror.

"It's the same with everyone upstairs," he nodded, looking as pale and frightened as she felt.

They both stood there in the center of the room for a moment, holding each other's hands and staring around in indecision, neither knowing what to do.

"The phone!" Anna exclaimed suddenly, and began patting the coat pockets of her white dental coat for her mobile phone. She found the small folded device almost immediately and flipped it open. Dialing 999 she raised the device to her ear. The phone rang. . .and rang. She stared uncertainly into Michael's eyes as it continued to ring.

"They should have picked up by now," he said after several moments of silence. When she shook her head, still listening, he crossed the room to the main desk, reaching over the counter to take the phone out of Monique's hand.

"Hello, hello?" he said into the receiver. Anna watched as he cleared the line and dialed 999 himself. They both stood there, holding the phones to their ears, waiting, staring at each other across the room.

"This is a land line," Michael told her. "They should have picked up even if the mobiles are down."

"Unless they're receiving too many other calls?" Anna suggested, trying to think of a logical explanation for the lack of response.

"A computer should have picked up then," Michael reasoned.

"How many calls does it take to overwhelm the system?"

He just shrugged, not knowing the answer.

Anna flipped her phone closed. "It can't be a gas leak," she stated.

"What?" Michael stared at her, phone still at his ear.

"If it was a gas leak it would have affected us," she told him, motioning to the sleeping people around them.

"That rules out just about any chemical agent then," he agreed. "But I think it did affect me -- at least briefly. I'm certain I blacked out. I woke up on the floor of my office."

Anna nodded. "I think something happened to me too," she admitted, remembering the moment of disorientation. She glanced down at her watch, but she had no idea how much time had passed. She couldn't remember the last time she had checked the clock. "Did you feel anything?"

Michael shook his head, frowning. "I got dizzy, and then I was waking up. I thought. . ."

"What?" she stared at him.

He gave her an almost helpless shrug. "I would have sworn I saw Hermione's friend, Harry, in the room with me -- just for a second, but I'm certain I heard his voice."

Anna nodded. "The same thing happened to me. Just for a second I thought I saw him."

They stared at each other, both trying to figure out what this might mean. Anna knew there was only one logical explanation -- though she hated to apply the term 'logic' to it. If this wasn't some sort of chemical or gas leak, it had to be magical.

"Magic then," Michael whispered as if loathed to say the word. They were both so careful about never saying any thing of that nature outside the safety of their own home. Hermione might live in the Wizarding World, but they did not -- people who spoke about magic were not looked upon favorably. They were both fascinated by the subject, but knew enough to keep their professional lives very separate from the topic.

"That still doesn't explain why we weren't affected," Anna reasoned. "We have no protection against spells."

"Unless Hermione or Dumbledore did something to us," Michael suggested. "What if they've cast some sort of protection incantation on us? Hermione said something about wards to protect our house."

"I suppose it's possible," Anna agreed. She frowned then. "Is this an attack then?"

They both turned to stare in dread at the now closed door of the elevator. They were on the second floor but anyone attacking the building would probably enter through the main floor of the office building.

"It's been at least ten minutes," Michael reasoned. "If this was an attack, wouldn't someone have come up here by now? Or those Wizard Police -- they would have responded as well."

Anna nodded in agreement, but she could see by the look in Michael's eyes that he was not even remotely certain of what he was saying. She wasn't either. They both stared at the elevator. Michael set the phone back down on the hook. "We can't stay up here," he said at last. "There's always a police officer on duty at the end of the street. He can use his radio to call for help since the phones aren't working."

"The elevator or the stairs?" Anna asked him, knowing he was right. They couldn't just stand there waiting.

"Do Wizards have elevators?" Michael asked her.

She shrugged uncertainly. "I have no idea. But they do seem pretty baffled by Muggle technology."

"Then they'd mostly likely take the stairs," Michael guessed. Reaching out to take hold of each other's hands, they both headed toward the elevator. Anna pointedly looked away from the little girl lying on the floor. Her heart was pounding as they waited for the door to slide open again -- it did so immediately indicating that no one else had called for the lift. Stepping into the elevator, Anna pressed the lobby button. As the door slid shut they both heard the faint sound of Rod Stewart singing over the elevator speakers.

Michael squeezed her hand as the lift came to a stop. A moment later the door slid open, and the two of them stiffened, staring out at the main lobby beyond. Slumped against the far wall of the lobby was the familiar shape of the janitor, his mop lying on the floor beside him. No one else was in sight.

Cautiously Anna and Michael stepped out of the elevator and turned their attention toward the glass entrance doors that looked out upon Tooley Street. There was no movement at all beyond the glass. For a moment Anna thought that the cars lining the road were frozen in place, but a second glance revealed they were simply not moving -- several however had crashed into one another. She could see the crumpled fender of small red Nissan smashed into the back of a larger delivery vehicle. Michael's hand tightened on hers.

Nervously the two of them made their way toward the glass doors, pausing only briefly before pushing them open and stepping outside. It was evening, though at this time of year it would be at least another hour or so before the sun set, so the sky was bright enough. Tooley Street was typically busy in the evening -- cars jamming the road, pedestrians walking up and down the sidewalks as people made their way home from work or shopping. But nothing was moving in either direction.

There were men and women lying on the ground, sprawled in undignified heaps everywhere they looked. The crumpled Nissan had a woman behind the wheel, slumped over the steering column. Anna thought she could see blood on the woman's forehead as if she'd cracked her head against the windshield.

Across the street she could see a young lady lying on the ground next to a pram which had been stopped from rolling into the street by the street lamp it had smashed into. At the far end of the road, the enormous front window of a Tesco had a mail truck sticking out of it. Anna thought she saw the shape of a man lying beneath the back wheels of the vehicle.

"It's the entire street," she stated unnecessarily, keeping her voice low.

"Do you hear any traffic?" Michael whispered back.

She listened. London was a noisy city. She should have been able to hear the traffic from the numerous roads all around them. It wasn't silent -- the cars on the street in front of them were still running, their engines idling. In many directions she could hear the various wails of car alarms. But she couldn't hear the sound of anything moving.

"Maybe it's the entire block?" she told him, shaking now. Unable to just stand there she moved toward a large man lying on the ground nearby, pressing her fingers to his throat. His pulse was beating strong beneath his skin, but no matter how hard she shook him, she got no response. Copying her actions, Michael moved toward another fallen form, getting the same results.

Anna stared for a moment at the woman crumpled over the steering wheel of the Nissan before making up her mind. She ran across the street and pulled open the car door, reaching in to touch the woman's throat. Her heart was still beating as well -- though this time it was a bit more sluggish. There was indeed blood dripping from a large gash in her forehead. Despite the pain such a wound must have caused, the woman did not respond when Anna shook her.

Glancing around she saw that Michael had moved to the pram, and was checking the form of the small baby inside it. Seeing Anna's worried stare, he nodded to her. "He's alive."

"So is she," she nodded toward the woman in the car. Frowning Michael pulled the pram away from the light post and pushed it off to one side into the shelter of the little bakery. He then grabbed hold of the mother's arms and dragged across the sidewalk and settled her next to the pram.

Anna frowned. "We can't just leave the baby there." The very idea felt wrong.

Michael pointed down the street. "There's two more of them down there," he told her. "And another in a car seat in that car over there."

Anna stared in the direction he had pointed, seeing both prams as well as the car seat he'd indicated. Her heart sunk as she understood his meaning.

"We can't carry all of them," he said unnecessarily. "We have to find help. It's the best thing we can do for all of them."

Knowing he was right, she joined him on the sidewalk. They both glanced up and down the street. "There's always a police officer around the corner by the Tesco," Anna said, since neither direction looked very promising. Michael took hold of her hand again and they headed toward the crashed mail truck.

They walked in silence, both staring at the shape on the ground beneath the crashed mail truck in the Tesco window. As they drew nearer, Anna could see that a dark stain was spreading out beneath the figure. Her heart started racing, her stomach flipping uneasily. When they were only a few feet away, they both stopped and stared in horror. It was obvious that when the mail truck had crashed through the supermarket window it had struck someone lying on the ground. Anna didn't have to get any closer to realize that the person's head had been crushed beneath the tires.

"Come on," Michael said quietly, motioning her toward the street. They swung wide around the store, both of them careful not to look inside. One glimpse was enough. They rounded the corner and stopped, wide eyes taking in the sight before them.

The street beyond was a main thoroughfare -- four lanes of busy traffic as well as busy walkways which led to the London Underground at either end. Nothing was moving -- cars were scattered all over the road, crashed and crumpled in on one another. Evening commuters to the London Underground were lying sprawled along the walkways. At the far end of the street they could see one of the red double decker tour buses smashed into a tall building. There was no doubt in Anna's mind that from the force of that impact numerous people had been killed.

It took them several minutes to spot the uniform of the police officer they were searching for. He was slumped against a wall in front of a small street-side cafe. Anna and Michael hurried across the road toward him, weaving around the cars -- most of the engines were still running, but the drivers were all asleep at the wheel. Several car alarms were shrieking pointlessly.

Reaching the police officer, Michael turned him over, tugging the small radio he wore on his belt free of its holder. "Hello, hello!" he said into the microphone, his thumb pressing the speaker button. Both of them waited in silence, listening to the static on the other end. "Hello! Can anyone hear me! We need help!" Anna stared hard at the small speaker, willing it to answer, but nothing came through the line but static.

"Try your mobile again," Michael urged, and Anna reached into her pocket and pulled out the small phone. Dialing the emergency number once more she listened in frustration to the endless ringing. She shook her head at Michael.

Michael stood, his expression filled with indecision as his gaze stopped momentarily on the numerous signs for the London Underground.

"Michael, we can't go into the Underground," Anna told him nervously, guessing the direction his thoughts were taking. "What if the trains stop running?" The idea of being stuck in one of the tunnels terrified her.

He frowned at that but nodded his head in agreement. "We need to find help."

"No one's answering the phones or the radio," Anna told him. She didn't want to think too hard on the implication behind that.

He shook his head in frustration. "It can't be more than few blocks affected. We just have to get out of here so that we can reach the authorities."

Anna thought about that for a moment. Now more than ever she was certain this was magical. What ever had done this had been instantaneous -- the drivers had had no chance to stop their cars or pull over to the side of the street. Had it been some sort of nerve gas or chemical agent, it would have killed everyone -- but most of these people were just asleep. And that also wouldn't explain why Michael and she were not affected. Magic was the only explanation.

"Which authorities?" she asked her husband.

"At this point I'd settle for anyone," he told her. "The Leaky Cauldron and the Ministry of Magic are both in that direction." He pointed northwest toward the Thames. "Stay there a moment," he ordered and then ran across the road toward a man sprawled on the ground next to a small motorbike. She watched nervously as Michael dragged the man away from the motorbike, moving him off the road and onto the side walk near a bus stop. Then he pushed the bike upright and straddled the seat, fiddling with the key in the electric starter. It only then registered in Anna's mind what her husband intended to do. She rushed toward him.

"We can't just take his bike," she protested.

Michael gave her an odd look. "He's not using it at the moment," he pointed out. It took him several tries but he managed to get the engine running again.

"Do you even know how to drive one of those things?" she asked uncertainly. He was revving the engine by twisting one of the steering handles.

"I had one when I was a teen," he assured her. "Get on behind me."

Anna rolled her eyes heavenward, but dutifully climbed on behind Michael, hiking her skirt up so that she could sit comfortably. She wrapped her arms tightly around Michael's chest and hissed in nervous shock as he started forward. She was grateful at least that he seemed to have no desire to go fast -- the roads were hardly clear enough to do so anyway.

Michael weaved cautiously between the crashed cars on the road, having to move up onto the sidewalk more than once to get by. As it was it was slow going, mostly because he didn't want to risk running over anyone lying on the ground. Each time they turned a corner and entered a new street, they scanned the area for any sign of movement, growing more and more alarmed when they realized how widespread this phenomena was.

At one point Michael stopped the bike and they stared in silent horror at a book store that had caught on fire -- two cars had crashed into it and the petrol from one of the vehicles had ignited. They both stared as the building began to burn -- through the window they could see people inside, sleeping in blissful ignorance. With absolutely no way to stop the fire, they realized that all these people were going to burn alive. And after that what was to stop the fire from spreading to the next building, or the next?

"We have to find help," Anna whispered urgently to Michael. He nodded his head, and drove on.

"The next right should take us out to Waterloo Bridge," Anna told him, pointing ahead. "We should be able to see some sign of life from there." From the bridge they would be able to see up and down the Thames. There was bound to be some sign of hope there.

It took Michael far longer than it should have -- it was rush hour and the roads were crowded, even if no one was moving. Weaving in and out of the crashed vehicles Michael made it up onto the main road and drove out onto the bridge, heading out over the Thames. In the course of the short distance they had traveled they had both seen things they didn't want to contemplate, and there was still no sign of life anywhere.

Michael paused in the center of the bridge, bringing the bike to a complete stop as they searched up and down the dark Thames for any sign of life. There were still dozens of boats and barges on the water, drifting along their currents -- but they could see no movement on the decks of any of them.

Anna scanned the shore, looking for the tall spire of Nelson's Column -- instead her gaze was caught by a dark plume of smoke rising high into the sky far off in the distance. It was almost due west from their location, and stood out in stark contrast to the red blaze of sunset. She guessed the smoke had to be at least fifteen miles away -- but judging by the height of the smoke column the burning structure had to be something enormous.

"Michael," she whispered, pointing toward it. Her husband turned to follow her finger, staring at the smoke. "What's over there?" She tried to picture a map of London in her head -- but this was too far away for her to be familiar with any local landmarks.

"Heathrow," Michael answered, and Anna felt a cold chill go down her spine. If that was Heathrow, the only thing that could send up a cloud of smoke like that was a burning airplane.

"Heathrow is fifteen or twenty miles away," Anna told him. "It can't be that widespread. It's not possible."

"How do we know it's not possible?" Michael asked. "We have no idea what magic is capable of." Looking around now, they could see other columns of smoke rising into the air. Buildings all over London were burning and the one thing painfully absent was the sound of emergency vehicles. With this many fires, the air should have been filled with police and news helicopters -- but there was nothing flying in the sky save a few birds who were scanning the waters of the Thames for dinner.

"You don't think it's all of London?" Anna asked.

"I don't know," Michael replied. He sounded ill with the thought. "Where should we go?"

Anna thought about that for a moment. "We have to see if the Wizarding World is affected. We should try to contact Hermione -- I'm sure Dumbledore will know what to do."

"Do you remember how to get into the Ministry?" Michael asked her. Neither of them had ever been there before, but Hermione had described it to them in one of her letters.

Anna closed her eyes briefly, trying to picture her daughter's written words in her head. "She said something about a phone booth with a magical receptionist. I don't remember the number you're supposed to dial however."

"That Tom chap in the Leaky Cauldron is nice enough," Michael suggested. "I'm sure he'd ring Hogwarts for us if we asked."

Anna nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention and she looked eastward down the Thames, past the familiar shape of St. Paul's Cathedral. Further down river she could see a dark flock of birds rising into the sky, flying toward them. Noticing her stare, Michael turned to watch them as well. For several long minutes, they just watched as the birds drew closer and closer. When they neared the bridge they banked in formation and turned northward, flying away from the Thames.

"Michael," Anna whispered. "Those were ravens. They came from the Tower."

Michael shook his head. "They can't be. All the ravens at the Tower have their wings clipped so that they can't fly away. It's just a coincidence."

She hoped he was right -- even if it was little more than a myth, it struck something decidedly British inside her and chilled her to the bone. "Let's leave," she urged, pointing northwest across the Thames. "Charing Cross is that way. We should try to get there before nightfall." It was only a few miles away, but with the crashed cars cluttering the roads it might take longer than anticipated to get there.

Michael nodded, but paused before taking off. "What if they're all asleep as well?" he asked softly, and Anna shuddered. The thought had crossed her mind already. What if there was no one in London to go to for help?

"Then we'll go to Hogwarts on our own," Anna decided. "Whatever has happened, it has something to do with Harry Potter. We both saw him. We'll get answers at Hogwarts."

Michael revved the bike engine and started off again down the long stretch of the bridge. He took a left down the Victoria Embankment following the Thames all the way to Northumberland Avenue. The road was lined with crashed double decker buses, many smashed into buildings, some lying on their sides along the roadway. Michael paused before heading down the main road, glancing briefly over his shoulder at Anna for confirmation. She wasn't certain she really wanted to see what was up ahead, but she nodded anyway. They could take the side streets to Charing Cross Road, but it was harder to get past the smashed vehicles on the narrow side roads.

Slowly they drove forward, each trying to keep their eyes focused ahead instead of on the accidents all around them. It didn't take them long to reach the center hub at Trafalgar Square. There Michael stopped the motorbike and they stared in silence at the sight before them.

The tall spire of Nelson's column was as beautiful as ever, the carved lions still gazing proudly out in all directions from the enormous fountain. But beyond that the sight was alien to both their eyes -- bus after bus were crashed into one another or smashed into the traffic risers that kept vehicles from approaching the memorial. There were hundreds of men, women and children lying about on the ground -- several bodies floating in the water of the fountain itself. Police men, tourists, evening commuters -- as far as the eye could see there were people lying unmoving throughout the entire Square.

"Let's go, Michael," Anna whispered, horror stricken by the sight. Michael just nodded weakly and began to maneuver the bike through the throng of disaster, weaving around bodies and automobiles. Anna knew that most of these people were only sleeping -- but so many of them were dead. When the others woke up what would they think -- lying all this time beside loved ones who had passed away in their sleep?

It didn't take Michael long to make his way down a few side streets to Charing Cross Road. The old buildings lining the roadway had become familiar to the two of them over the last six years as they took Hermione to the Leaky Cauldron so that she could buy her school supplies in the magical world beyond the back alley. They passed banks, theatres and restaurants -- Anna shuddered when she glanced through the front windows of a well known noodle house. It was crowded with diners -- all lying face first on their tables, insensate to the world around them.

And then up ahead something moved.

Michael slowed the bike, both of them staring at the sight before them, not certain they were really seeing what they hoped they were seeing. A woman, wearing a dress that would have been fashionable in the 1940s, was sitting in a chair near a small cafe beside Leicester Square Tube Station. She wore an odd hat upon her head with several feathers sticking out of it which twitched as she looked around in curiosity. But the most telling sight was the long, familiar looking stick she held in one of her hands. Anna wanted to say she looked harmless -- but they both knew better than that. The woman was obviously a Witch, and they were far from harmless. Nonetheless Michael drove slowly toward her -- this is what they had been looking for after all, even if they did not know who this woman was.

As they approached, Anna tried to get an estimation of her age. The clothing was nothing to go by. Few people in the Wizarding World seemed capable of dressing in proper Muggle attire -- they were always several decades out of date if nothing else. She was obviously older than both of them, but as Wizards and Witches aged at a much different rate than Muggles, Anna had no idea where to place her age. Her hair was pulled back in a rather severe bun, but still looked quite dark in color.

The woman watched them as they drove up, eying the motorbike mistrustfully. She stood when they neared, nodding her head to both of them in typical British fashion. Anna immediately climbed off the bike, flushing uncomfortably when the woman frowned disapprovingly at the bare legs she showed. She quickly smoothed her skirt back into place.

"Excuse me," Anna said politely, holding her hand out to the woman. This whole moment took on a surreal quality -- they were surrounded by men and women lying unmoving on the ground and she was trying to remember her manners. Across the road three cars were smashed into the front of a dress boutique. "I'm Anna Granger, and this is my husband Michael."

The Witch took her hand and shook it firmly, her grip strong. "Augusta Longbottom," she told them both, her accent marking her as a Northerner. "Are you any relation to Hermione Granger?"

Startled Anna glanced back at Michael before nodding her head in confirmation. "She's our daughter," she admitted. "Do you know her?"

"Not personally," the woman replied. "She goes to school with my grandson, Neville."

Anna supposed she should not be surprised -- the Wizarding World was a relatively small community, and they were near one of the most frequented pubs in Wizarding London.

"Can you help us?" Anna asked. "We're trying to get to the Leaky Cauldron. We want to contact Headmaster Dumbledore." The two of them had never gone to the Cauldron without Hermione beside them -- while they could see the building they still found it disconcertingly hidden. Often it took Hermione to point it out to them before they even noticed the sign. They had never tried to find it on their own.

"Good man, Dumbledore," Augusta nodded her head in approval. "And there are strange things afoot. Best take out your wands -- there always seems to be trouble in this city. I haven't been here in years, but the last time I came for a shopping trip a group of German fellows started dropping bombs on the place. I'm beginning to think that no good ever came from a city this large."

German fellows? Anna revised her estimation of the woman's age upwards -- the woman's dress was certainly old enough to have been purchased during the Second World War.

"We don't have wands," Anna admitted nervously. She knew there were a lot of prejudice in the Wizarding World concerning Muggles and Muggleborn.

Augusta frowned at that. "Squibs then?" she mused thoughtfully.

Again Anna shook her head. "Muggles actually." She glanced back at Michael but he just shrugged uncertainly.

Augusta snorted at that and motioned to the people lying on the ground. "All the Muggles are still asleep," she informed them. "It is only the Magical Folk that Potter has managed to wake up. You must be Squibs. Lots of them grow up believing themselves to be Muggles."

The very idea startled Anna -- Hermione had suggested something similar to both of them in the past. Both Anna's and Michael's parents had died young, and neither of them really knew much about their ancestry. She supposed it was possible they had some magical blood somewhere in the bloodline -- it would certainly explain why Hermione was as powerful as she was.

"Do you mean Harry Potter?' Michael asked from his seat on the motorbike. "Do you know what has happened then?"

"Only one Harry Potter," Augusta informed them both. "You must have heard his voice when the spell was broken?"

They nodded, surprised that their experience had not been unique.

"It was a spell of some sort," Augusta stated. "Don't know the details exactly -- never seen anything like this, never seen anything so widespread.. But I know a counter curse when I feel one, and it was Potter that cast it and woke me up. A true King and no mistaking."

"King?" Anna asked in surprise. She knew the Wizarding World treated young Harry like some savior, called him the Boy Who Lived. But this was the first time she'd ever heard anyone call him a king.

Augusta pursed her lips thoughtfully at that. "You wouldn't know about that, living in the Muggle world," she remarked. "Wouldn't know about Stonehenge. Well, there's no helping that. You had both best come along with me to the Leaky Cauldron. If there are Death Eaters about, the safest place for the two of you will be Hogwarts. Hop off that mechanical contraption, young man, and walk beside us. I have no intention of riding in one of those Muggle machines."

Michael quickly turned off the engine, kicking the motorbike's stand down before climbing off of it. He joined Anna, taking her hand before offering his arm to the older woman. She huffed at him, but took his arm, nodding in satisfaction at the courtesy. Anna couldn't help but find it odd that the reality was the two of them were relying on her for protection -- if Death Eaters were around, the Witch would be the only one of them capable of defending them.

Michael gave her a reassuring smile and she nodded in understanding. At least they knew the Wizarding World was still standing. With that hope in mind, they headed down Charing Cross toward the Leaky Cauldron.

- - - -

Author's Notes:

Okay, I know you are probably all asking -- what the hell happened to Harry and Severus???? Sorry to leave you with another cliffhanger -- but I'm not done writing that chapter yet.

As you can probably imagine, this was a tough chapter to write -- I'm very curious to see how it will be received. I've only been in London a few times so my knowledge of the layout is a bit sketchy. Hopefully those familiar with the city aren't too irritated with my descriptions.

As to why I wrote this from Anna's point of view -- I didn't know how else to do it. It had to be shown through the eyes of a Muggle -- and they were my best choice. And yes, Augusta is right (remember, she was at the Calling). The two of them are Squibs. Isn't that horrible -- Hermione has been a pureblood all along? (Hermione's status is actually not important to the plot -- you'll understand soon enough why I made them Squibs.)

Incidentally, the Ravens that speak to Harry, and the Ravens in the Tower of London come from 2 different mythological traditions.

P.S. Lot's of people write me reviews via Private Messages -- and I'd love to reply to all of you, but I keep running into technical difficulties. It took me about 20 messages before I realized that hitting 'reply' on my email doesn't do anything with PM emails. The messages all bounce back. Apparently I need to be logged into ff, and then find the author's profile and then email them from there -- but I'm very rarely logged into ff. I use Firefox typically and it has some serious issues with the main interface -- in fact to upload my chapters I have to use IE. That's the only time IE ever gets used on my machine. In any event, if you need to ask me a question, or desperately want a response from me -- go to my yahoo group and post there. I do my best to answer all those questions. The address is in my profile.


	75. Chapter 75 Brave New World

Chapter 75 - Brave New World

Remus handed Severus an evening edition of the newspaper as he'd sat down to eat in the Great Hall. As Severus glanced through it, he kept a close eye on the door, waiting for Harry to enter. He couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the boy's day had gone.

Beside him, Sirius, Remus and Charlie were discussing the ramifications of Lucius Malfoy's sudden rise to power in the Wizengamot; Draco, seated next to Pansy at the Slytherin table, was watching the three of them intently. Judging by the look on Draco's face, it was all the Slytherin could do not join them at the Head Table to hear what they were discussing. Draco had his own paper in front of him and was glancing at it frequently, no doubt dissecting every word of every story that even mentioned his father.

Severus noted the many looks the boy was garnering from the rest of Slytherin House. Draco's marriage to Charlie had unsettled them. While Draco had done a remarkable job playing off the incident as some sort of power play -- though how he had managed that Severus didn't know -- it still had left many of the Slytherins confused about where things stood. Draco's sudden alliance with the Weasleys and now Harry Potter, brought so clearly to light when he'd stood with them on the Quidditch Pitch and faced down the Elder Demon, had just confused things even more. They were no longer certain how their social order stood.

He saw Harry enter a moment later with Ron and Hermione flanking him; the three of them joined their year mates at Gryffindor table. Briefly Harry glanced toward him, and Severus was rewarded with a tell-tale flush to the young man's face. He smirked in amusement, guessing at the reason for the flush. He wondered if Harry was looking forward to their date. Friday night suddenly seemed like a long way off. He mentally began planning what he would need to do before then -- wooing a Gryffindor was bound to be challenging.

He watched closely as Harry started in on his dinner, while around him the other Gryffindors were avidly reading the paper. Severus knew that Harry had missed breakfast, and had barely eaten anything at lunch. He was bound to be hungry. Remembering Madam Pomfrey's words about Harry's health, he was pleased to see such a healthy appetite. Harry had been using far too much magic to allow his appetite to wane.

And then Hermione Granger reached across the table and pulled Harry's plate away from him, slapping down the paper in front of him instead. Severus' eyes narrowed in irritation -- didn't the girl know that Harry needed to eat? After all the things that had happened to him lately, he needed to keep his strength up to counteract the strain he was putting his body through. Severus resisted the urge to storm over there and give the girl a piece of his mind.

There seemed to be a heated discussion going on at the table, and Severus contemplated drawing his wand and casting a listening charm. He could guess however what they were talking about -- none of them were pleased with Harry's decision to give Lucius Malfoy the seats on the Wizengamot. He wondered if any of those children really understood what sort of responsibility the world had placed on Harry's shoulders -- and if they had any understanding at all of how difficult all this must be for the young man.

And then he'd felt a strange burning in his arm -- different from the summoning pain he felt in the Dark Mark when Voldemort was calling to his followers. He frowned, touching the coils of silver beneath the sleeve of his robe. Lupin noticed the movement and turned toward him.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" he asked in concern.

Severus scowled -- the burning was growing sharper, hotter. But a sudden disturbance at Gryffindor table caught everyone's attention. Severus looked up just in time to see Harry stumbling away from the table.

"That's it? That's the secret!" the young Gryffindor exclaimed in shock -- everyone in the room heard the horror in his voice. As one, the teachers stood, all of them instinctively understanding that something was wrong -- very wrong.

Severus tried to stand, but the pain in his arm flared as he felt a great rush of power surging out of him as if he were being drained of every last bit of strength he possessed. He heard shouts, the sounds of things falling; someone grabbed his arm -- Lupin he thought. There was a sound like the wind roaring in his ears -- magic was burning through his body, scorching his nerve endings. He could feel the coils of silver around his forearms fighting it, trying to hold back the sensation.

And then something else hit him -- a spell, washing over him like a wave of rushing water and from one moment to the next he was falling, blackness descending. He knew distantly that he'd hit the ground, though he was beyond feeling anything at that moment -- his mind was falling into darkness, consciousness fading like a tiny spark of light that was far off and growing dimmer and dimmer as everything else just drifted away. He tried to fight, tried to claw his way back toward that tiny spark of life -- but there was nothing to hold on to. Peace -- like death-- closed over him, muffling everything, taking with it all thought, all light, all memory, until there was nothing. . .nothing at all. . .

"Severus Snape! Awaken!" A surge of power hit him like a sledge hammer, battering its way through his soul, striking something deep within him and shaking it violently. It rolled through him like thunder, electrifying every nerve in his body, bringing him to life. He recognized that power, intimately knew the feel of it.

". . .Harry. . .," he whispered, because that was Harry standing there in the darkness, calling to him, shaking him, bringing back the light that the darkness had swallowed. He reached out to him, trying to grasp the pale, slender hand of the boy he loved.

His fingers closed over the hard form of a chair leg and the world came back into sudden, sharp focus, the pain throbbing in his left forearm reminding him that he was still alive. He blinked in confusion -- the whole world was tilted on its side. But. . .no. . . he was lying on the ground behind the Head Table. One side of his body ached as if he'd struck the stone floor with great force. There was an overturned goblet lying directly in front of him, and a boot only inches from his head.

Frowning in astonishment, he lifted his head -- Lupin was lying on the ground as well; the man's hand twitched suddenly as if he'd just been startled.

What the hell. . . Severus shifted, trying to push himself upright. His heart fluttered, and he gasped as an overwhelming sense of weakness washing over him. He felt worse now than he had after the Elder Demon had attacked -- as if he'd just spent hours holding that shielding spell in place instead of only minutes. The coils of silver around his arm were hot against his skin, like they often got when Voldemort tried to summon him and Dumbledore's wards fought off their influence.

"Severus?" Lupin's voice startled him and he turned his head. The werewolf was just sitting up, a look of confusion on his face.

And then Severus remembered Harry.

He grasped hold of the chair he'd been clutching earlier, using it to pull himself up right, his muscles quivering in reaction as he fought the weakness that had overcome him. Seeing his difficulty, Lupin scrambled upward, apparently not suffering quite the same effect he was. The werewolf grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him upright. The two of them stared around the Great Hall in shock. It looked as every single person in the room had fallen over, or fallen asleep. They were only now beginning to stir. Even Albus was on the ground, the old man just now sitting up and shaking his head -- Severus had never seen his hair and beard so badly rumpled.

Severus' eyes scanned the room, moving directly to Gryffindor table where he'd last seen Harry. He spotted Ron Weasley first -- the redheaded boy was on his knees beside someone, blocking Severus' view of who ever was in front of him. But whoever it was, Sirius Black, after untangling himself from a group of Ravenclaw students, was rushing toward him.

Severus took several steps forward and stumbled, his limbs shaking violently as another wave of weakness swamped him. Lupin caught him again, keeping him upright.

"Harry," he whispered, hoping that Lupin would understand. The werewolf nodded, and slung one of Severus' arms over his shoulders. Then he pulled Severus along -- around the head table and through the throng of moaning, bewildered students. He heard more than one student say Harry's name as they came to -- all of them looking astonished. Severus shuddered. What in hell had happened?

Ron, Hermione and Sirius were kneeling next to Harry -- the two younger Gryffindors moved aside as Severus and Remus joined them. Sirius had rolled Harry onto his back -- the boy had been lying face first on the ground. Unlike everyone else in the room, Harry showed no signs of consciousness. Terrified, Severus reached out a shaking hand and touched Harry's throat. It took him a moment to find the correct spot, but when he finally did he let out a soft moan of relief -- there was a pulse, faint but steady.

"Severus?" Albus asked -- the old man knelt down beside them while Severus was checking for a pulse.

"He's alive," he assured everyone.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Ron demanded.

Sirius brushed back the hair on Harry's forehead -- the lightning bolt scar was bleeding, a single rivulet of blood dripping down the side of Harry's head and into his hair. Hermione immediately grabbed a napkin from the table and used it to clean away the blood. Severus gently touched the boy's forehead, probing the wound -- it did not look deep but with a curse scar it was hard to tell how serious it might be. Albus ran his wand lightly over Harry's body, scanning him with a minor medical spell. All of them waited anxiously for him to say something.

"His vital signs are stable," the old man assured them. "But he appears to be in a coma. Madam Pomfrey will be able to tell us more."

"I saw him," Neville Longbottom's voice startled all of them. The Gryffindor was still sitting in his seat at Gryffindor table but he was staring down at Harry. "I saw him in my head. He woke me up, called my name."

"Me too!" Lavender Brown exclaimed.

"I saw him as well," Justin Finch-Fletchley over at the Hufflepuff table announced, and moments later everyone in the room was saying the same thing, all claiming to have seen Harry in their minds, all claiming they had heard his voice, heard him call their names.

"He saved us," student after student murmured -- though no one in the room really understood what exactly they had been saved from. All they knew was that the darkness that had swallowed them had been profound and deep; all of them had been terrified of it, thinking they were dying. Harry had brought back the light. "He saved us all. Even the Slytherins," another student exclaimed in shock.

"Albus," Remus Lupin said quietly, below the murmur of the students' exclamations. "If this was an attack, the castle may be in danger."

That caught Severus attention and he looked up in alarm. Indeed Lupin's words startled Albus out of his own haze of confusion. The old man's eyes sharpened and he nodded his head.

"Hagrid!" he called out to the giant who was still at the head table, trying to straighten things up. The large man turned immediately. "We need to seal to the castle." He clasped Severus' shoulder with a surprisingly firm grip. "Keep everyone in here. See if anyone else is wounded -- or if anyone else is still unconscious like Harry."

Albus was on his feet then, striding swiftly toward the doors of the Great Hall, Hagrid racing after him. They sealed the doors behind them.

Severus wanted to protest -- what about Harry? He wasn't going to leave the boy just lying here on the ground. But before he could speak, Sirius reached out and lightly touched his hand. "Stay with him. Remus and I will take care of everything else."

Startled, Severus could only nod in acceptance, not knowing what to do in the face of such sudden compassion. Instead he shifted so that he was sitting more comfortably on the ground and pulled Harry closer so that his head was resting on his lap. He took the cloth Hermione handed to him and pressed it against Harry's forehead, applying pressure to the wounded scar. It wasn't bleeding badly, but he didn't want to take any risks. Unconscious like this Harry looked so young. His skin looked frighteningly pale save for the shadows beneath his eyes. Even his lips had drained of color and Severus remembered too clearly how red and inviting they had looked that afternoon after he'd kissed him.

"Why hasn't he woken up?" Ron asked again, his voice strangely hoarse. Severus spared the redhead a brief glance. Ron's face was equally pale, his freckles standing out in stark relief against his skin. Beside him Hermione looked just as frightened.

"I don't know," Severus admitted. His thoughts felt sluggish; the drain on his magic hampered his mentally abilities as well as his physical body. He tried to think, tried to push past the exhaustion -- what had happened to all of them? What had Harry done?

Whatever had happened Voldemort had drained Severus nearly completely of his magical strength -- he'd felt the surge of power rushing through him as if he'd been casting some incredibly powerful spell. As it was he suspected it would be days before he recovered completely. He had to assume that Voldemort had done the same to all his followers -- he'd cast a spell over the entire castle with that magic, knocking all of them out. But somehow Harry had seen it coming and had countered the attack, waking them all up. But the cost of casting a counter charm on this many people had exhausted him to the point of loosing consciousness.

"He meant to knock us all out and then enter the castle and kill us all in our sleep?" Hermione stated -- her words sounding like a cross between a question and a statement. "Or maybe take us prisoner?"

Severus had no idea -- though that sounded plausible. He glanced toward the doors of the Great Hall. If that were the case they could expect an attack -- would Voldemort himself be arriving any moment now to tend to all of them?

But surely this sort of spell would have exhausted Voldemort equally, if not more than it had Severus? Maybe he meant to sent his Death Eaters to do the job. . . but no . . . right now they would all be as drained as Severus was. Actually, they would probably be in worse shape than Severus since the warding bands around his arm had blocked a good portion of the magical drain. Without the warding bands, the rest of the Death Eaters would likely be lying insensate somewhere, unable to lift a wand let alone fight a battle.

But if not Death Eaters, then who -- surely they were not about to face another Elder Demon? Or perhaps Voldemort had Dementors or other dark creatures waiting in the wings ready to attack them?

He became aware of a small form kneeling beside him, holding one of Harry's hands, and he frowned in confusion. Where the hell had the house elf come from -- he had not heard the distinctive sound they made when they manifested.

"Poor Master Harry," Dobby murmured as he stroked the back of Harry's hand. "He is saving us from the great Silences. He is bringing all the voices back."

"Dobby, were the elves affected by the spell as well?" Hermione asked in surprise. Severus stared down at the strange little creature. He was aware now of other elves moving through the Hall, cleaning up the mess around them.

"We is hearing the Silences," Dobby explained in the baffling way of elves as if the nonsense that came from his mouth was perfectly clear. "We is saved when the Silences is ending. Elves is not liking the Great Silences. Elves is knowing that there is nothing good and bright after the Silences. But Good Master is bringing all the voices back. Good Master is saving elves."

They all exchanged brief looks of confusion. Perhaps Albus could make some sense of the creature's words, but Severus could not. He was feeling far too weakened, his thoughts ill-defined, and he shook his head to clear it.

"Professor?" Draco's voice called to him from across the room at Slytherin Table. The other teachers were moving about the room trying set things to right, and he could see Madame Pomfrey tending to students here and there. He felt a momentary surge of anger at the woman -- why was she not here tending to Harry instead? But then he saw one of the wounds she was mending and realized that perhaps there were others here who had more immediate needs. The Ravenclaw boy she was healing appeared to have fallen on his dagger when he'd passed out -- he had a bad wound in his gut which was bleeding profusely.

He focused his eyes on Draco instead. Charlie was beside him, both of them kneeling beside two Slytherin seventh year boys who appeared too weak to even sit up. One was lying on his side in a fetal position, moaning as if in pain. The other was flat on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. Only the occasional blink of his eyes let Severus know he was conscious.

"Check their arms," he told Draco, instinctively knowing what they would find. Another surge of rage moved through him -- he rather suspected that once his mind cleared and he got some of his strength back he was going to explode with anger. Already he could feel it bubbling up inside him. His fingers, tangled now in Harry's hair, twitched as his hands tried to clench into fists. He forced himself to relax his hold -- he couldn't afford to hurt Harry.

Draco and Charlie each pulled back the sleeves of the two boys. Gasps of shock echoed through the room as the students looking on saw the Dark Marks on their arms -- the flesh around the Marks was horribly swollen.

Draco stood up abruptly, a look of fury on his face. A hush fell over Slytherin House as they all stared at the blond, wondering what he would do. Severus glared -- even now they still did not understand where Malfoy's loyalty lay.

Draco hesitated only a moment before drawing his wand and pointing it at the two marked students. A moment later, both boys were bound tightly with ropes, trussed up like pigs. Charlie collected their wands and then surprisingly handed them over to Draco as if giving him custody of the prisoners. Draco took them with a nod of his head and then swept his gaze over the staring forms of the rest of Slytherin House. The hardness in his features reminded Severus of Lucius. Though Draco said nothing, the expression in his angry eyes demanded something of the students in front of him. One by one, the students of Slytherin House pushed up the sleeves of their left arms, revealing unmarked flesh for all to see.

At Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang stood abruptly and glared at her house mates. They too bared their arms, revealing the unmarked flesh.

Justin Finch-Fletchley stood at the Hufflepuff table, but his house mates were already pushing up their sleeves. One glance from Ron Weasley had the Gryffindors doing the same -- all of them were unmarked. The students turned then to stare once again at Draco and some unnamed emotion flashed through his blue eyes, his jaw set into a hard line. Though there was no accusation spoken out loud, Severus could hear it in the silence -- it was only Slytherin House who bore this Mark.

Draco turned then and crouched down beside the two bound student. With two swift motions of his hand, he had ripped the Slytherin patches off their robes as if attempting to strip them of their House affiliation and consequently the shame they brought with them. The students of Slytherin looked on in utter stillness as if afraid to move.

Surprisingly it was the voice of Sirius Black that cut through the stillness, startling them all. "Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor," he stated. He was standing near the doors to the Great Hall, staring across the room at Draco. "There is no shame on your House, only on the individuals."

More than one pair of eyes widened at that -- Severus' included. That Sirius Black, the ultimate Gryffindor, would absolve Slytherin House of any sin, let alone this one, said something so profound that Severus didn't know how to react. Instead he bowed his head and stared down the pale face of Harry Potter, and for a few moments ignored the movement around him as Draco organized the students to clean up the Hall. The respectful circle of distance they all kept from Harry's unconscious form spoke volumes.

Eventually the doors to the Great Hall opened, bringing all the fear and tension back instantly. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster strode back into the room, his wand still in his hand. If anything Albus looked more confused now than he had when he left. He nodded to the other teachers and they instinctively gathered around Severus and Harry.

"There's no sign of an attack," Albus told them all, allowing the students to overhear that statement. More than one person relaxed at this announcement. "I sent the Bloody Baron down to Hogsmeade to look around, and Hagrid and several Winter Land men are searching the grounds. But the phenomena was not confined to the Great Hall. Everyone on the grounds was affected as well -- there were several injuries. Two men fell off the walls -- thankfully no one was killed, but there were several broken bones."

"What about the wards?" Remus asked.

Albus shook his head. "They have not been disturbed."

"Neither the Dark Lord nor his Death Eaters would be in any shape right now to launch an attack," Severus told him.

"I know," Albus agreed, apparently having come to the same conclusion as Severus had earlier. "But I've adjusted the wards to watch for a demonic signature. I can't keep an Elder Demon from manifesting, but the wards will warn me if something demonic shows up. There's no sign of anything." He didn't add the fact that this made little sense -- the baffled looks on all their faces were telling enough.

"We should move the wounded to the Infirmary," Albus decided then. "And Minerva, I want you to floo to the Ministry. Tell them what happened and find out if anyone knows anything. Perhaps Lucius has some idea what is going on."

His words got them all moving again -- Severus felt much better knowing that the castle as still secure. He didn't protest when Lupin lifted Harry from the floor -- he wasn't capable of doing it himself. As it was he needed help standing up -- Sirius and Ron ended up pulling him to his feet. While the other teachers began organizing the rest of the students, they made their way down to the Infirmary with Harry.

------------

Several hours later Severus found himself sitting beside Harry's bed in the Infirmary. He'd taken a pepper-up potion earlier which had greatly improved his own condition; he no longer felt so completely drained.

The two Slytherin seventh-year students were lying across the room in beds, bound now to the bed frame instead of trusted up with ropes. The magical drain on their bodies had been far more severe than Severus' -- it would be several weeks before either of them were back to full health. No one felt it necessary to supply them with pepper-up to help speed the process.

There were numerous wounded Winter Land men in other beds. The worst injury had been one of the men who'd fallen from the castle wall -- he'd broken both his legs. With Skele-grow he'd recover in a matter of hours. The others had suffered minor bruises and strains. Surprisingly however they all lingered in the Infirmary. Severus suspected they wanted to wait for Harry to awaken -- all of them had shared the same experience as the students. They had seen Harry standing in front of him, had felt him touch them or call their name. All of them attributed their consciousness to something Harry had done. Coupled with their previous devotion to the Boy Who Lived, they did not want to leave his side now.

Severus, seated in an armchair that Albus had conjured beside Harry's bedside, clenched his fist tightly to prevent himself from reaching out and grasping Harry's hand again. Currently Madam Pomfrey was performing a deep scan on the boy with a variety of bizarre medical devices and had asked everyone to refrain from touching him while she worked. Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, Charlie, Draco and Albus were all waiting nearby, as anxious as Severus was to hear the results.

When Madam Pomfrey finally set down the last of her instruments -- an outlandish contraption that Hermione claimed looked like Muggle eggbeater -- they all attentively looked up, turning their attention from Harry's pale face to Madam Pomfrey's puzzled frown.

"He's in stable condition," she informed them first. "As you would expect from such a thing, he's magically exhausted, which has put his body under severe stress. I can deal with all that however. What has me puzzled are his brain waves, and the odd fluctuation in his magical core."

Severus found himself paling at her words, his chest tightening. The only time a Medi-witch became concerned with brain waves was when there had been brain damage of some sort -- such as the effects caused by the Cruciatus Curse. "Are you saying--" he began.

But Madam Pomfrey shook her head quickly. "No, there is no sign of brain damage, but his memory and personality core have become almost neutral or generic, as if he's suffered a Totus Obliviate Charm. However there is no sign of that either -- and as far as I can tell his memory pathways are intact. It's more like he's simply not using them -- or has become disconnected from them."

"Are you saying he won't remember anything when he wakes up?" Hermione asked in horror.

But again Poppy shook her head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. His memories are all intact. But he isn't going to wake up at all unless his brain starts functioning normally again. His body is in a coma, but his brain is behaving as if he's in a light form of stasis."

"You said there was something odd about his magical core as well," Albus prompted.

Poppy sighed. "It is behaving similarly to his brainwaves. It's become neutral, like the energy signature of a very powerful magical artifact. It actually reminds me of the Castle Wards themselves. Strong, powerful, but utterly elemental instead of living. I don't know what to make of it."

"The lights are on but nobody's home," Hermione stated.

Poppy looked momentarily confused by the statement, but then nodded in agreement. "An excellent analogy," she admitted. "I don't know how to wake him up. I've never seen anything like this. I'll have to consult with some colleagues at Saint Mungos."

Severus reached out again and took hold of Harry's cold hand since Poppy was done with her scans. Sirius, who'd sat down on the edge of the bed and taken hold of Harry's other hand, looked as shaken as Severus felt.

"Isn't it possible that Harry will just awaken on his own when he gets his strength back?" Sirius asked. "I mean he just cast a counter spell on several hundred people in this castle. Anyone who did that would be unconscious. Remember how dazed he was after the fight with the Elder Demon. Or when he moved the stone in the Winter Lands -- he collapsed right afterwards. What he did today would have pushed even his strength."

For once the Gryffindor was making good sense to Severus and he nodded his head in agreement. Poppy frowned thoughtfully. "It's possible," she admitted. "The normal rules don't seem to apply to Harry, so anything is possible."

A commotion at the door drew all their attention toward it. Minerva had returned from the Ministry. Walking beside her was a very pale Madam Bones. Auror Stark and Shacklebolt were steps behind them. All of them looked far more grim than Severus had ever seen them. It was obvious from the expressions on their faces that something was terribly wrong.

"What has happened?" Albus demanded of Madam Bones, his voice filled with alarm.

Madam Bones seemed to have aged thirty years since Severus had seen her that morning. She swallowed nervously before answering. "This effect. . .this spell you experienced. . .it was not localized. We experienced it at the Ministry as well."

A horrible sinking sensation hit Severus, and he tightened his hand around Harry's. "What woke you up," he asked, already knowing the answer. He felt his heart dropping into his stomach, unable to accept what this might mean for Harry.

"We all experienced the same thing," Madam Bones informed him. "Harry Potter woke us up. We felt him touch us, heard him call our names."

They all stared at her in utter silence, trying to take in what she was saying. Severus want to shout in rage -- how many people had Harry cast this counter curse on? How much had it drained him? Instead of being an attack on all of them, had this been an attempt on Harry's life -- the Dark Lord knew Harry would do anything to protect those around him. Had he pushed Harry to the point of death by forcing him to drain himself dry to save them?

"When we came to and figured out what had happened," Amelia Bones continued, "we began to look around -- everyone had fallen asleep -- everyone in London, Wizards and Muggles alike. You must try to imagine the damage caused by this -- the accidents that occurred when everyone spontaneously fell asleep. Wizards on brooms falling from the sky, surgeries interrupted, people in mid apparition, or simply walking down stairs. And in Muggle London -- automobile accidents, aeroplane crashes. Fires have broken out all over London, and there is no one to put them out. You see the Wizards woke up. . .but the Muggles did not."

Her words were greeted by dead silence as everyone in the Infirmary listened in horror. It was Albus who finally responded -- but only to express his shock. "Dear God," he whispered. "The death toll. There has to be. . ."

Madam Bones reached out and gripped the old man's arm, silencing him, and Severus realized in numb horror that they had not yet heard the worst of it.

"We started getting calls from governments all over the world," she stated. "This spell wasn't localized -- not to Hogwarts, not to London, not to England. It was world wide. As far as we can determine, everyone in the world was affected. Every Muggle and every Wizard. Harry Potter woke up all the Magical People, but not the Muggles."

Stunned, Severus could do nothing but stare, his mind numb. Albus sank down onto the bed near Harry's feet, his face lined with shock. "The death toll will be in the millions. . ." he began.

"Albus. . ." Madam Bones interrupted him again. They stared at her. There were tears in her eyes. "We know what spell was used -- it's a a type of sleeping spell. We've never seen anything exactly like it. As near as we can determine it was designed to put one person to sleep for a hundred years. It's been modified, altered, and amplified beyond anything we've ever seen and cast over the entire world -- this defused its duration from a hundred years to three or four months. The only way to end the spell is to send a powerful pulse of magic directly through the sleeper's magical core -- which is what Harry seems to have done for everyone in the Wizarding World."

"Muggles don't have magical cores," Remus Lupin stated in alarm.

Amelia Bones shook her head. "No, they do not. We've tried everything we can think of -- nothing we do will awaken the Muggles. They will sleep until the spell wears off."

Hermione took a startled step forward, staring intently at Madam Bones. "Are they asleep or in stasis?" she demanded sharply. It took Severus a moment to figure out what she was asking -- why it would matter in the face of this horror.

Another tear ran down Amelia's cheek and she shook her head at the girl. "They're asleep," she said.

Hermione's eyes welled instantly with tears and she moaned out loud, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle back a sudden cry of horror. Ron caught her before she collapsed to the ground.

Severus thought he was going to be sick -- his head reeled with the information and if he had not already been sitting he knew he would have fallen over.

"I don't understand!" Ron exclaimed, holding a now sobbing Hermione tightly in his arms. He was staring wildly around the room at the adults surrounding him. "What does it matter if they are asleep or in stasis? What difference does it make -- you just said they'll wake up in three or four months time!"

"Ron," Remus touched his arm. "Can you survive for three months without drinking any water or eating any food?" Ron's eyes widened in understanding. "In two or three days," Remus continued, "the sleeping Muggles will start dying of dehydration. Faster in the warmer climates. They'll all be dead by the time the spell wears off."

"He's destroyed the world," Madam Bones stated. "The Dark Lord has murdered six billion people."

No one spoke, no one moved. They just stood there in shock, utterly powerless to do anything else. All the magic in the world and they were utterly helpless in the face of such horror.

And then Hermione Granger startled them all by letting out a loud, wordless exclamation of shock. She lifted her face and stepped away from Ron moving toward Harry's bed. Though there were still tears streaming down her face, she was no longer sobbing -- instead she was staring with fanatical intensity at the unconscious boy lying in the bed. Severus was uncertain if she had gone mad or if once again Hermione's brain was just moving so much faster than everyone else's.

"He's still trying!" she exclaimed. "That's why he hasn't woken up!"

"Trying what?" Severus demanded, knowing that she was talking about Harry.

"Trying to save them!" she insisted. "Trying to save everyone! Just before this happened I told him he couldn't save everyone. He said he had to try. He's still trying to save the Muggles."

"He can't save them," Madam Bones protested. "It won't work."

But Hermione shook her head. "That wouldn't stop him from trying! We have to save them for him! He saved us and now we have to do the rest!"

They were all staring at her now as if she'd gone mad. "We can't wake them up either!" Madam Bones exclaimed. "Weren't you listening? We can't---"

"Not with magic!" Hermione shouted, glaring at all of them as if they were idiots. "People fall into comas all the time. You don't just let them die. You keep them hydrated and fed intravenously until they wake up on their own."

"Hermione," Remus reasoned. "Even if every Wizard in the world helped out, we couldn't possibly save everyone -- there aren't enough people with the skills to do anything, or enough resources to go around. We could only save a tiny fraction of the Muggles."

"That doesn't matter!" Hermione told him. "Don't you see -- all that matters is that we try. That we save some of them! Do you want to be the person who tells Harry when he wakes up that while he was risking his life trying to save all of us, we let all the Muggles die because we stood around and did nothing?!"

Her words hit all of them like blows, striking straight to their hearts. Severus and the others could only concede in the face of such determination. She was right -- how could they ever look Harry in the face again if they didn't at least try to do something, even if it was nothing more than slapping a tiny bandage on a gapping wound.

"She's right," Albus voiced all their thoughts. "We have to try. We have to save as many as we can."

All of them nodded in agreement. Harry had saved them; now it was their turn to try and save the world.

---------

Author's Notes:

It's not often that I get to destroy the entire world -- so this has been quite an experience. I recommend that everyone try it at least once. Of course now I have to try and put it back together again -- which is easier said than done. And sadly, Voldemort is not quite done.

This has been planned right from the beginning -- lots of people have picked up on the clues and have been predicting all sort of similar scenarios. It's been very odd writing the lighter side of this story, knowing what was coming. But I did warn you that the Dark Lord was going to earn his title -- and yes, you will learn 'why' he did this. He is mad -- but he does have a reason.

Regarding the Ravens in the Tower -- I forget sometimes that many of my readers are not familiar with a lot of the western/European legends. The legend dates back to Charles II (actually it may go back farther than that -- but that is the story told in the Tower) that if the Ravens were ever to leave the Tower, Britain would fall. Since then the Ravens have always remained -- and the caretakers of the Tower take special care by clipping their wings to ensure that they can't leave.

Apparently most of them were killed during the bombings in World War II -- only one was left. But as far as everyone knows the Tower has never been completely without at least one Raven. There are currently 9 there -- their names are as follows (taken from Wikipedia): Gwylum (male, 18 years old), Thor (male, 15 years old), Hugin (female, 11 years old), Munin (female, 11 years old), Branwen (female, 3 years old), Bran (male, 3 years old), Gundulf (male, 1 year old), Baldrick (male, 1 year old), Fleur (female, 4 years old).

I had to laugh when I saw the names -- Fleur for example. And of course Hugin and Munin are the names of Harry's 2 Ravens -- they were Odin's Familiars.

Originally this chapter was going to be 2 separate chapters -- but I decided to combine it all into one since I couldn't really find a good stopping point. However that means I'm a bit behind on the next chapter. Also I'm going out of town for several days next week so I'm afraid it will probably be 2 weeks before you get a new update. Hopefully this long chapter will tie you over until then.

Regarding Neville's Grandmother -- no, there was no special significants to her being in London during the bombing raids of WWII. I just thought it would be amusing that the 2 times she decides to go shopping in London, the world seems about to end (literally in this case). The British Wizarding World is aware of what is going on the Muggle World -- they just don't care to learn most of the details. She knew enough to know that it was some conflict with the Germans -- but that was about it. As for how she knew what bombs were -- bombs have been around for centuries. Wait until the Wizarding World has to go to war and they start bringing out the Magical Trebuchets.


	76. Chapter 76 The Undeserving

Chapter 76 - The Undeserving

Hermione Granger's words had lit a fire under everyone. Suddenly faced with the chance to do something that might actually do some good, everyone in the castle had volunteered to help. Madam Bones and the Aurors had returned at once to the Ministry to contact St. Mungos and begin their own preparations. They promised to contact the other governments all over the world as well -- passing on the idea in case they had not thought of it themselves.

The obstacles they faced were limited skills and resources and a time constraint -- Remus had been right about how quickly the sleeping Muggles would begin dying. Within an hour of learning the news of the outside world, plans were already underway to get started.

As for the ultimate question of who to save -- that was easy enough for all of them to agree on. They focused on the Muggles already connected to the Wizarding World -- the families of halfbloods and Muggleborn.

In Hogwarts that night Albus set about organizing the students to aid one another -- the school had numerous students connected to the Muggle World. Those students who knew how to apparate would be taking the younger students out to pick up their Muggle families. Portions of the castle were already being converted into hospital wards. Most students didn't want to wait until dawn to head out, desperately worried about the accidents that could potentially befall their family members, or perhaps already had.

Severus, weakened by the drain to his magic, stayed beside Harry while this chaos went on around him. Wanting to help, he made a list of the potions that would be required over the next few months to sustain the sleeping Muggles. He'd require the assistance of all his advanced students to make them -- no doubt St. Mungos would need any extras they could produce as well.

Numerous members of his house, Draco primarily, came to update him on the plans. Surprisingly many of his Slytherin students wanted to be part of the effort. Muggle hating was all well and fine when it was just rhetoric, but none of them wanted to see an end to so many lives. He couldn't help but notice the almost manic energy that filled the students who came to speak with him throughout the night -- all of them were still stunned by the news, and shock was beginning to set in. They were all terrified for the future -- Severus couldn't help but wonder what more the world would have to endure before this was all over.

* * *

Severus took Harry for a walk in a rose garden. Never mind the fact that Hogwarts didn't actually have a rose garden, and that this one with its tall wild rose vines looked remarkably like the rose maze at Briarwood Hall in the County of High Hill. He held Harry's hand in his own, reveling in the bright easy smile on the young man's face, and the carefree expression in his brilliant green eyes. A soft breeze was blowing, lifting the untamed, dark locks of hair away from Harry's face. There was no scar on the pale skin of his forehead.

They rounded a corner and through a break in the rose vines they could see the dark shape of Snape Manor on the far hill. The young man laughed at the sight, and the sound stirred something bright and hot within Severus' heart.

"Shall we live there, Severus?" Harry asked and Severus smiled at the innocent joy in the young man's face. Rose petals blew past them as the breeze around them turned and danced in the other direction.

"We will live wherever you want, Harry," he told him, and he meant it -- he would give his bond mate anything he asked.

He tugged Harry toward him, pulling him against his body. The scent of the young man was intoxicating -- far sweeter than the enchanted roses. He kissed Harry, stealing his breath as he captured his lips, tasting him, stroking deeply with his tongue. Harry smiled against his mouth and slid his arms around Severus' shoulders; the heat of his body against him was almost more than Severus could bear. His hands slid down the lithe, muscled body; Harry moaned and moved against him and Severus imagined what it would be like to lay him down on this carpet of rose petals and take him over and over again.

"I'd like that," Harry whispered against this mouth. "It's a pity I am dead."

Severus jerked awake in shock, only to feel a warm hand lightly touching his forehead. He glanced up to see Sirius Black standing over him. Instinctively flinching back from the man's touch, Severus glared at him even as he tried to shake off the remnants of the dream.

"Sorry," Sirius apologized, stepping back from the chair Severus was slumped in beside Harry's bed. "You were asleep." Sirius didn't look even remotely sorry, Severus noticed.

Remus, who was standing at the foot of Harry's bed, was watching him with a kind smile on his face. A swell of unnamed emotion burned through Severus -- he didn't want Black's apologies or Lupin's smiles. He wanted Harry awake and well and back in this world where he belonged. One glance at the boy lying unmoving on the bed told Severus that nothing had changed.

They had moved Harry into a private room off the main infirmary a few hours ago since they all knew the infirmary would soon be crowded with Muggles. Severus didn't want anyone disturbing Harry, and things were bound to be chaotic soon. He checked on Harry's condition quickly as Remus and Sirius moved around the bed and settled in the chairs across from him.

"I wasn't asleep," Severus snapped at them both. "I was just resting my eyes." The two men, Black in particular, had been bizarrely solicitous toward him these last few days. Severus couldn't for the life of him figure out why -- as far as he knew nothing of any great importance had occurred that might have changed either man's opinion of him.

"What time is it?" he demanded, noting to his disappointment that Harry had not even moved. He hated how pale Harry's face appeared. He was still and lifeless.

"Nearly four in the morning," Remus told him.

Severus sighed -- Harry had been unconscious now for almost ten hours with no sign of recovery at all. He touched the boy's forehead carefully -- Harry's skin was cold and clammy but the scar was still hot and inflamed. A quick check showed him that the warming charms on the blankets were still active -- Madam Pomfrey had been monitoring Harry's temperature all along. He fought down the sense of panic that welled inside him each time he thought of Harry's condition -- he would recover! He would not lose Harry like this!

Reaching into his own pocket, Severus pulled out another pepper-up potion and pried off the cap.

"Are you sure you should be taking more of those?" Remus asked before he could drink the potion.

Severus glared at him. "I do know the effects of too many of these," he reminded the man. "This is only my second. I'm fine." He drank down the potion with one quick swallow, feeling instantly better. The drain on his magic had left him exhausted -- though already he could feel himself beginning to recover. Once again he silent thanked Albus for the silver warding bands around his arm. Without them he couldn't image what he would currently feel like. The two Marked Slytherin students were still too weak to even move.

"Has there been any change?" Sirius asked then, motioning to Harry. Both he and Remus had volunteered their time to aid the students -- allowing Severus to remain with Harry. Again, Severus wondered at their strange willingness to accommodate him. The last time Harry had been in the infirmary Black had practically tried to have him barred from Harry's side.

"None," Severus informed him, wishing he had better news to tell them. Were it not for the slow rise and fall of Harry's chest as he breathed, Severus might have thought he was dead. Even the powerful sensation of Harry's magic was missing -- its absence left Severus feeling empty, aching for its return.

The door opened a moment later and Hermione and Ron entered. Both students looked exhausted, but Severus could see that Hermione had not lost the look of intensity in her eyes. She was the driving force behind the students' effort. They greeted the three of them as they moved to the foot of Harry's bed, both of them staring thoughtfully down at their unconscious friend. He could see his own fears reflected in their eyes.

"Hermione and I are heading to London to try and find her parents. She thinks they may have been in transit home when this happened -- we're going to have to search the Underground," Ron told them after a few moments of silence. "Who's going to go collect the Dursleys?"

Severus looked up in shock. "What?" he demanded. "Absolutely not!"

"I agree!" Sirius stated as well, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "They don't deserve to be saved!"

An odd look crossed Ron's face and he glanced over at Hermione. She just gave him a faint smile. "We had an interesting conversation with Harry just before this happened about what people do and do not deserve," Ron told all of them. "I imagine there were a whole lot of people that Harry saved today that did not deserve it. When Harry wakes up and asks us where the Dursleys are -- I don't want tell him that we didn't think they deserved to be saved. And he will ask -- I think you all know that."

Severus cursed under his breath, knowing Ron was correct, but hating the fact. Harry was unconscious now because he was trying to do the impossible, trying to save the unsavable. "How did I get so involved with a bunch of bloody Gryffindors!?" he hissed.

Looking up he found all of them staring at him -- it seemed they were all going to leave this decision to him. The only Slytherin in the room and they wanted him to decide to do the 'right thing'. And either way, he'd be the one who would have to look Harry in the eyes and explain the choice to him.

"Fine!" he snarled. "We'll save the bloody Dursleys." Even knowing that it would be what Harry wanted, Severus found that hard to stomach.

"Remus and I will go," Sirius volunteered. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Severus insisted again, though he had no intention of leaving Harry's side to run after the Dursleys. He also had no intention of going back to his quarters to rest. He might be tired, but that would not stop him from watching over the young man who had just saved them all.

Any more discussion was interrupted by Albus who entered the room, leading two familiar forms behind him.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione cried in shock. She was across the room and in the arms of her two relieved looking parents a second later. Dumbledore looked on with a brilliant smile.

"But how on earth!" Hermione exclaimed after a moment. "We were on our way to find you. All the Muggles are asleep."

"We've been poked and prodded for the last hour by Ministry people," Anna Granger told her daughter. "They concluded that we are in fact Squibs. Said something about both of us possessing a very faint magical core which is how young Harry was able to wake us."

Hermione looked astonished by the announcement, though Severus wasn't certain why. It wasn't that unusual for Squib families to lose touch with the Wizarding World and assume they were simply Muggles. It certainly made Hermione's own magical skill more explainable -- she was unusually strong for a Muggleborn.

"We understand you're organizing a relief effort for the Muggles," Michael said to his daughter. "We want to help. The day to day care will be difficult and you'll need all the volunteers you can get."

Severus knew the two of them had a medical background of some sort -- something to do with teeth. But if they were anything like their daughter, they probably had vast areas of expertise to draw on. No doubt Poppy would find their aid invaluable.

Anna stepped toward Harry's bed, and gently reached out to touch one of his cold hands. "Is he. . ."

"Exhausted," Severus told her, hoping that was all it was. He didn't want to face the thought that this might be more serious than magical exhaustion. He couldn't face the thought that Harry's mind might be gone for good.

"So it's true what they're saying?" she asked in amazement. "He really did wake all of us up?" At the nods of confirmation she received she just shook her head in disbelief. "He's all anyone could talk about in the Leaky Cauldron and the Ministry. They're calling him King now. I don't suppose he'll have an easy time of it?"

To that no one had a response. They all knew, better than anyone, what Harry thought of his fame. After this, Severus knew there wouldn't be a Wizard or Witch anywhere in the world who did not know his name. And with no idea what Voldemort planned for the future, Severus suspected the Wizarding World would expect Harry to continue saving them.

But not alone, he vowed silently. He'd never leave Harry alone -- if he would just wake up so that Severus could see those soulful green eyes once again. He'd take Harry out for a walk in the moonlight and he'd kiss him under the stars. If he'd just wake up. . .Severus' heart clenched in his chest.

* * *

It was nearly dawn by the time Remus and Sirius apparated to Privet Drive in Surrey, appearing with a loud crack directly on the main street. With no Muggles around to see them there was no longer any point in disguising their magic.

Sirius found himself staring at #7 Privet Drive, directly across from the Dursleys' home. There was a car sticking out of the front window of the house. The lawn, once meticulously kept, had heavy tire furrows dug into it, showing the path the car had taken when it had veered off the road. Just in front of the house were two bicycles -- a young boy was lying beside one of them. The other rider -- a girl -- was lying directly in the path of one of those tire furrows in the lawn. Her pink sweater had tire tracks across the back of it, and a thick stain of blood was seeping into the dirt beneath her.

"Do you think Harry knows them?" Remus asked quietly. A quick glance at the tawny haired man showed that he looked just as horrified as Sirius felt. He was staring at the little girl on the lawn.

"Harry said the Dursleys didn't let him socialize much," Sirius replied with a shudder. He turned away from the sight and glanced around the rest of the neighborhood instead. For the first time the extent of the damage this terrible deed had wrought became clearly apparent to him. It was one thing to hear about it; it was another thing entirely to see it first hand.

The neighborhood itself was silent for the most part -- though off in the distance several streets over, Sirius could hear the sound of some sort of Muggle alarm blaring. Sirius knew enough about Muggle technology to know that it would eventually stop once its power source ran out.

All around them they could see the glow of fires burning as parts of London turned to ash. The smoke that filled the air was laden down with scents that Sirius didn't want to identify too closely -- it was not just buildings that were burning. He was glad he did not have Padfoot's sense of smell in his human form.

Here on Privet Drive, save for the few cars scattered at odd angles about the road, it might have been a normal morning were it not for the utter stillness all around them. There were few lights on inside the houses and no signs of anyone stirring despite the coming dawn. A large lorry had taken out a street lamp at the far end of the road; all the other street lamps up and down the street were dark.

"The power grid is still active," Remus stated, pointing to the various porch lights that were still shining from some of the houses. Sirius knew Remus had lived on and off in the Muggle world over the years and knew far more about its technology than he did. He assumed from Remus' statement that it would only be a matter of time before the power would be gone. With no Muggles left to repair things, the technology they had developed over the years would disappear into pages of history. Sirius shivered with the thought -- it was inconceivable what had happened. He was having a hard time truly accepting the reality of it.

They turned toward the Dursleys' residence and Sirius couldn't help but eye the small lawn and the flower bed in the front yard. He knew from things Harry had said over this last year that all the yard work was left to him during the summer. Obviously someone tended to it during the school year -- implying that the Dursleys had the means to hire a gardener when Harry was not around. The idea that they might dismiss the gardener just for the summer so that Harry could earn his keep angered Sirius to no end. And then he remembered that the gardener in questions was likely now dead -- or soon would be. It put a strange perspective on the situation and Sirius' emotions churned chaotically.

Remus must have sensed his turbulent emotions for the man placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder, catching his attention.

He turned and stared into Remus' warm amber eyes and a wave of calm energy washed over him, releasing some tightly clenched emotion that might have choked him other wise. He smiled gratefully at the man. He wondered sometimes if Remus even understood the power he had over him; these last few weeks since they'd been together as lovers that power had only grown stronger. Remus may have been the wild werewolf in their little group -- but Sirius had always believed that the beast that resided within his own heart had been far more dangerous than the creature his friend transformed into monthly. The beast known as the Bloodline of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black had done far more damage to this world than any werewolf had ever managed. And now finally, after all these years, the quiet, calm presence of Remus had silenced much of the chaos in his soul. The magical bond that had formed between them over these last few weeks as their magic joined on a level he'd never imagined before had even begun to erase the memory of Azkaban from his heart.

"Let's go," he said with a nod, and the two of them turned toward #4. As they walked up the main path to the front door, Sirius noticed the driver's side car door was ajar as if someone had forgotten to close it. At least the presence of the car implied that the family had been home for the evening when this had happened.

Sirius frowned regretfully at that. If they had been away they could have legitimately told Harry that they had tried to save them but could not find them. After all they would have had no way of knowing where they might have been.

They approached the front door and Sirius flicked it open with a wave of his wand. Stepping cautiously into the living room, they were accosted almost immediately by a shrieking woman who was wielding a large flat stick of some sort. It took Sirius only a moment to react, waving his wand again and sending her flying back to land with a thump on the couch. Unhurt but momentarily stunned, the woman just stared at the two of them in shock.

It was then that Sirius noticed the two large blobs lying on the floor of the room. One of them, the youngest, was lying in front of a glowing Muggle television which was showing only static on the screen. The other was set at such an angle that Sirius suspected that the woman had dragged him through the front door. Both were covered with blankets, their heads propped up with pillows. The older of the two was snoring loudly.

"Hello Petunia," Sirius sneered. He'd met the woman at James' and Lily's wedding; she'd been an unpleasant, bitter woman even then. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him that she would be awake, doomed to the life of a Squib while her beautiful sister had been a powerful Witch. Apparently the magical trait had not been passed on to her son, however, as he was showing no signs of consciousness.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "You did this, didn't you? You did this to my Vernon and Dudley."

He frowned at the woman. "I'm Sirius Black and this is--"

"Sirius Black!" the woman shrieked in horror. No doubt she knew the Muggle stories about the deadly murderer Sirius Black. "He sent you, didn't he! That freak is responsible for this!" For a moment Sirius thought she was referring to Voldemort, until she added, "You're his godfather."

A growl of rage escaped his throat at the realization that she was calling Harry a freak. Only Remus' hand on his shoulder stopped him from hexing the woman on the spot. He shot a glare at Remus. "Do we really have to save them?"

Remus just gave him a mild shrug. "Think of all the fun you can have later playing pranks on them," he suggested in order to appease him. Sirius perked up at that -- he hadn't thought of that option.

Remus moved passed him then toward the frightened woman. "My name is Remus Lupin, Mrs. Dursley," he began calmly. "We're here to . . ."

"The werewolf!" she exclaimed in horror. Sirius found himself stiffening in outrage again. How dare she look at Remus like that. "Are you going to eat us?"

"Only if I get extremely hungry and you continue to irritate me," Remus replied and Sirius smirked in delight. Apparently Mooney wasn't nearly as unaffected by this as he appeared. His words certainly shut the woman up. "We're here to help you at the moment," Remus explained, glancing toward the two large men on the ground.

"Then you did do this! Your kind, I mean?" Petunia asked. "My Vernon and Dudley won't wake up. I've called the police but no one answers." She waved a hand toward the telephone. "No one answers!" At that she grabbed a small silver box covered with buttons and pointed it at the television. The static on screen flashed over and over again before finally reforming into some sort of Muggle drama. "And there's no news! Just old reruns -- most of the stations aren't even broadcasting. You did something to my television."

Remus glanced briefly over his shoulder at Sirius. Sirius just shrugged -- he wondered if Petunia had even bothered to look outside. Surely she must have noticed that something major had happened to London? Hadn't she tried to check on her neighbors?

"No, there's no one else to help you," Remus informed her. "The Muggles are all asleep. No one is coming except us."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she yelled at the two of them as she got up off the couch once more and moved toward the younger man on the floor in front of the television. "You've done something to the phone and the telly. You've been playing your tricks on us all year! Well I won't have it any more! You're not allowed to do this! There are laws! I'll report you!"

All year? Sirius frowned at that, remembering what Severus had told him about the revenge Albus had extracted from the Dursleys. He gave a quick glance around the room, looking for any signs of the curses the Dursleys had been struggling with. He knew they had all been struck with a sense of claustrophobia and fear of the dark. There did seem to be an unusual number of lamps in the room, he decided. And despite the fact that he knew Petunia was given to decorating the house with numerous frilly accents, there were no curtains on any of the windows. He supposed claustrophobia might have driven her to keep the house looking as open as possible.

But he also knew that they had all been cursed with the inability to taste their food any longer, denying them any pleasure at all from eating. Judging by the size of the two men it had not curtailed their appetites. Perhaps they had attempted to compensate for the lack of taste by simply eating larger quantities -- Petunia was as thin as a rail, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke of a stressful life.

"You're welcome to report us all you want, Mrs. Dursley," Remus told her. "Only there's no one left to report us to. I told you all the Muggles are asleep. We're all the aid that is coming."

"The police will come and arrest you!" Petunia insisted.

"The police are asleep," Remus sighed. "So are the military and parliament and the Queen and the BBC and anyone else you might think to call."

Petunia looked horrified, but just as determined to plow on with her persistence that someone would come to stop them. "Then the Americans will come and get you!"

Sirius frowned at that, somewhat bewildered by the threat. "The Canadians?" he asked Remus.

Remus just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dursley, but the Americans are asleep as well. Your husband and your son need medical attention or they'll die. We're going to take you to a hospital ward where they can be taken care of."

She looked subdued by his words -- her gaze moving over her son and then her husband as if trying to judge how truthful his statement might be. "They're asleep," she told him. "Just asleep."

"And they're going to stay that way until the spell that affected them wears off," Remus explained.

Her eyes flashed. "Spell! This is magic then! I knew you were responsible."

"Voldemort is responsible!" Sirius snarled and Petunia flinched at that. He was relieved to see that she recognized the name. Perhaps she remembered that Voldemort had been the one who had killed her sister.

"We didn't do this to your family," Remus told her as patiently as possible. "We're trying to save as many Muggles as we can. This sleeping spell will not wear off for a long time -- if your son and husband are not given medical care they will dehydrate and die." Sirius guessed there was little chance that the two men would starve to death -- he suspected they'd both be able to live off their own fat stores for months yet.

"If a spell put them to sleep, then use a spell to wake them up!" Petunia demanded.

But Remus just shook his head. "We can't. It doesn't work that way. This spell was too specific. The only way to wake them up is to jolt their magical cores -- and neither of them have a magical core. That is why you are awake and they are not."

"I don't have any magic!" she yelled, sounding horrified by the mere thought.

"You are a Squib," Remus told her. "Harry was able to wake you up because of it -- he woke all of us up. Everyone was affected by the spell."

"Harry?" Petunia stared at him in disbelief. "It always comes back to that boy! That horrible boy! If he had just died with his parents, then none--"

The sound of a sharp crack sounded through the room and Sirius realized in some shock that his quiet, calm Remus had just slapped Petunia Dursley hard across the face with the open palm of his hand. "Never speak that way in front of me again," Remus growled at the stunned woman. Sirius could see a red mark already forming on her cheek. He resisted the impulse to add his own hex as well.

"Listen to me Petunia Dursley," Sirius snarled as he stepped forward, drawing the woman's attention away from Remus. She stared up at him in terror. "For the way you treated Harry we despise you. We despise your husband and your son. If we had our way we'd leave you here to rot in this dead city. The only reason we are here at all is because we know Harry would want us to help -- despite everything you have done to him. Now I suggest you quit flinging about accusations and insults and go upstairs and pack your personal items so that we can take your fat offspring and his disgusting father to receive medical treatment."

Petunia's lower lip started trembling, but still she glared defiantly at them. "You can't talk to me that way," she insisted, though sounded rather unsure about the subject.

Sirius just smiled at her. "Right now your only friend in the world is Harry Potter," he told her. "And he is not currently available to champion your honor. And while I might feel compelled to save you for his sake, I don't have to be nice about it. Considering you just managed to enrage a werewolf to the point that he has physically struck you -- if I were you, I would shut up and start packing."

Petunia shot an alarmed glance over at Remus who was standing near the fireplace now. The man had moved away from her in order to calm himself. The look he gave her was far from friendly.

Swallowing nervously, Petunia rose to her feet and moved toward the staircase, heading upstairs to pack her belongings.

Sirius crossed the room once Petunia was gone and slid an arm around Remus' waist, pulling him against his body. For a brief moment, Remus was stiff and unresponsive, but after a few seconds he sighed and relaxed against Sirius, burying his face in Sirius' shaggy hair. Sirius shivered as Remus' breath ghosted over his skin as the wolf breathed in his scent deeply.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Remus assured him as he raised his hand to touch his face. Sirius didn't resist as Remus tilted his face toward him and kissed his mouth. He smiled into the kiss, leisurely returning it, taking simple pleasure in the fact that he could do this now whenever he wanted.

A thrill went through his body when Remus' hands tightened on him suddenly, and the kiss turned more possessive. Remus had initially been a somewhat shy and timid lover -- but ever since the night Sirius had gone to Stonehenge, something had changed in the werewolf. Remus had grown more aggressive, more demanding -- as if needing to be certain of his rightful place at Sirius' side. It had never occurred to Sirius what a thrill that would be for him -- he'd never had a dominant lover before, and found that he loved it. Every sign of claiming Remus laid upon him eased away some of the dark chaos in his soul. It brought a peace to his heart he'd never dreamed of before.

As this was neither the time nor the place for further activities, Remus gave him a gentle squeeze before releasing him. Sirius just grinned as he stepped away -- the answering smile in Remus' eyes spoke volumes.

Left to wait for Petunia the two of them nosed about the room curiously. Sirius took note of all the pictures hanging upon the wall -- most of them were images of the fat boy asleep on the ground. He searched for ones that Harry might like to have -- it had not escaped his notice that his godson possessed very few personal mementos. But as much as he searched, he could not find anything that might have belonged to Harry. There were no pictures with him in them, no possessions lying about that might have once belonged to him. The reality was, he could sense very little of his godson here in this house, as if the Dursleys had been very careful to erase all sign of his existence from sight.

Remus stepped into the hallway near the stairwell and pulled open the door to the cupboard. Curious, Sirius joined him, and the two men peered for a long moment into the small, cramped quarters where they knew Harry had spent the early part of his life. There was still a small cot folded up against the far wall, hidden behind various bottles of cleaning liquid. Sirius also noticed a piece of paper taped to the underside of one of the stair beams and he reached in to detach it. He found himself staring down at a child's drawing of a man riding on a flying motorbike. Running in the air beside him was a shape that might have been a wolf or a dog.

Grinning he show it to Remus, who smiled and gently traced the lines of crayon. "Do you think he remembered us?" he asked.

"He remembered something," Sirius told him. Harry had only been a year old when their worlds had been shattered -- but it seemed the boy still had some faint memory of this life before the Dursleys.

"I wish. . ." Remus sighed, and Sirius glanced up sharply, hearing the regret in his voice. The look of longing and guilt on Remus' face hurt Sirius and he raised his hand to stroke the man's head, running his fingers through his tawny colored hair. He knew Remus had tried everything he could to gain custody of Harry after James and Lily had died -- but he had faced the same trouble the Weasleys had faced last September when they had learned that Minister Fudge was attempting to adopt Harry. Everyone in the Wizarding World had wanted the Boy Who Lived. Remus had no name, no money and no social standing. His claim would have been poor at best. Couple that with the fact that the adoption papers required a drop of blood from the parent and the child -- Remus was doubly cursed. The moment his blood touched the papers, his status as a werewolf would have been revealed. Werewolves were not allowed to adopt children. Albus had done the best he could by hiding Harry away from the Wizarding World here at the Dursleys.

But even there, Remus felt guilt that he had not checked up on Harry. He'd confessed to Sirius that he'd gone a bit mad in the years after James had died and Sirius had been locked away. Faced with the loss of the people and the child he had considered family, and the man he had considered his mate, Remus had wandered in a daze for number of years, barely able to care for himself. Now knowing that Harry had not been safe and loved all those years, the man hated the weakness inside him that had left him so unable to do anything for those he'd loved.

"Remus," Sirius whispered softly. "Let it go, love. Let the past go."

"Is it so easy?" Remus asked, pinning him with a sharp gaze.

"No," Sirius shook his head. He more than anyone knew how hard it was to let go of the past that continually haunted him. He couldn't help but think of the feud against Severus that he'd held onto for so long -- one that was tied up intimately with his own family and his once beloved brother Regulus and years of misunderstanding that Severus probably knew nothing about. If he had managed to let go of it a little sooner, perhaps things would be different right now. But he would think on that later. "It's hard and it's painful and it hurts. But it is also necessary. You taught me that. You are the only one who feels the guilt and the regret. Harry does not. You can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you. All he feels is love and gratitude that you're in his life now."

"I abandoned you too," Remus reminded him.

Sirius smiled at that, and shook his head. He knew the answer to this one perfectly -- Remus saw only his failures, but behind them was a faith that was so true and pure that he wasn't certain he could have held onto it in the face of what had happened. "No you didn't," he told the man. "Did you ever stop loving me?"

Something flashed through Remus' eyes. "No."

"Even when you believed I had betrayed you and James, and murdered all those people?"

"I never believed it!" Remus told him fiercely. And Sirius believed that completely -- because he had seen the look on Remus' face when he'd been dragged from the court room; he had heard the cries of protest. But back then no one would listen to one lone werewolf who'd been broken by the world around him.

"I know," Sirius nodded. "You never abandoned me. Even when everything around you said you should."

"I love you," Remus said simply.

Sirius smiled, letting all his mischievous personality shine through. "There. . .you see! I have it on good authority that all you need is love. Everything else works itself out."

Remus gave him a soft smile. "That sounds like one of those ridiculously romantic things a Gryffindor would say," he remarked.

"Brilliant folk those Gryffindors," Sirius grinned at him.

They heard a loud thump upstairs and a moment later Petunia reappeared, dragging a large paisley covered suitcase behind her. Neither man moved to help her and she sniffed at both of them in irritation. "Where is the ambulance?" she demanded as they reentered the living room.

"We're taking a port key," Remus explained, holding out a brightly colored sock. He and Albus had spent several hours making port keys that the students could use to bring their families back to Hogwarts. "I'll take you and your son with me. Sirius will bring your husband." Sirius had his own brightly colored sock in his hand.

"Port key?" Petunia frowned, gripping the handle to her suitcase tightly. Remus took hold of Dudley's arm and then held out the sock to the sour-faced woman.

"Touch the sock," he ordered. She glared at him, but did as he asked. A moment later they vanished from sight.

Sirius took one last look around the Dursleys' residence. He couldn't really imagine his kind-hearted godson growing up in such a place. He glared down at Vernon. "You don't deserve saving," he informed the sleeping man.

Vernon's only answer was a loud snore as he slept away undisturbed. Sighing, Sirius took hold of his hand and activated his own port key. They vanished from sight and left Privet Drive to die in silence.

* * *

Author's Notes: These chapters are taking more time to write than I anticipated -- they're harder than you might imagine. And I'm sorry to say that the next chapter will also be a while in coming -- I have a houseful of company arriving on Thursday this week. They'll be staying with me through the Easter holiday so I will have very little time to do any writing. I'll get back to it as soon as possible.

Well, lots of people have been asking me when the Dursleys will reappear -- so here they are at long last. Also Lucius will make a reappearance soon too -- so you'll find out what happened with the other Death Eaters. And yes, I'll explain the line in this chapter where Sirius mentioned the feud with Severus that had something to do with Regulus -- it is ancient history but explains much of the motivation behind Sirius' behavior (both recent and past) toward Severus.

Incidentally -- numerous people asked why Hermione wasn't upset about her parents. She was. Her breakdown in the previous chapter was entirely about her parents (she didn't know they were Squibs). I didn't mention them directly but I thought it was implied in the behavior. Her desire to save them was what gave her the idea to save the rest of the Muggles.

As for Harry's and Severus's date -- the date is on Friday. It's only Tuesday morning at the end of this chapter. Who knows what will happen in the ensuing days? Severus has no intention of giving up on Harry.

Note: lots of people have been asking for stats on this story. To date we are currently at 1.9 million hits. Thank you everyone!


	77. Chapter 77 Ancient History

Chapter 77 -- Ancient History

Bringing Petunia Dursley to Hogwarts was an experience Sirius could have done without. The portkey took all of them directly to the Infirmary which was already beginning to fill up with sleeping Muggles. No sooner had they appeared than they were hustled away from the arrival area and into the main room to make way for more arrivals.

While Petunia Dursley shrieked and squawked about the manner of their arrival and the shocking sight of her husband and son being levitated out of the way, Susan Bones from Hufflepuff directed Sirius and Remus toward two beds near one of the tall narrow windows at the far end of the ward. While Petunia wasn't the only Squib present who'd had little exposure to magic, she was certainly one of the nosiest, and Susan gave Sirius and Remus a rather pained looked before she rolled her eyes at the woman's behavior. Sirius shot Remus a quick look and saw the twitch of his lips -- it took a lot to annoy a Hufflepuff. The fact that Petunia was now shrieking about drafty old buildings wasn't earning her any friends.

As Sirius and Remus levitated the two fat Dursley men toward the beds, Sirius noticed the four Winter Land guards standing in front of the door that led to Harry's private room. A quick shake of the head from one of them told Sirius that nothing had changed. Harry had not awakened. Sirius' heart sank a little at that.

"What sort of hospital is this?" Petunia demanded when Dudley and Vernon were finally levitated onto the appropriate beds, and she'd had a chance to take a good look around. She was sneering up at the high vaulted ceilings overhead.

Sirius frowned, trying to picture how a Muggle might see this place. There were no electronic monitors or Muggle accouterments, and the long, narrow, bed-filled ward was lit with thick beeswax candles in wall sconces.

"This is the Infirmary at Hogwarts, Mrs. Dursley," Remus told her. He'd apparently recovered some of his calm manner though Petunia was still keeping her distance from him. Sirius wondered if the odds were greater that she had ever been slapped before or if Remus had ever struck a woman. He'd bet the former was far more likely.

"This is where my Dudley and Vernon are to be kept?" she exclaimed in outrage. "I demand a proper room -- somewhere private!"

"It's easier to tend to everyone if they're all together," Remus explained.

"But you don't have any equipment," she protested. "Just beds!"

"They'll have what they need," Remus assured her, and a moment later Madam Pomfrey appeared with Anna Granger. Over the course of the next several minutes they set both men up with IVs and a monitor spell on each of them to watch their vital signs. Pomfrey explained that catheters and feeding tubes would be inserted later -- Sirius shuddered at the thought. But he understood that the number of patients would prevent Pomfrey from using the usual spells for such things. It would exhaust her too quickly.

"And what about me?" Petunia demanded when Dudley and Vernon were settled. "Where am I to be staying?"

"We're setting up extra dormitories in Hufflepuff for the Squibs," Susan told her. "We thought you'd be more comfortable there than in the other dorms."

"Dormitories!" Petunia exclaimed, a sneer on her face. "I am not going to stay in a dormitory."

Irritated, Sirius glared at her. "You are more than welcome to stay with Remus and me," he offered. "I believe we have a cupboard you can sleep in -- don't we, Remus?"

"Yes," Remus agreed immediately. "Under the staircase if I remember correctly. I'm sure you'll be very comfortable there."

Petunia paled at their words and fell silent. Sirius smirked. "No?" he asked.

"Just you wait until I call my lawyer," Petunia warned.

"You do that," Sirius grinned. "I'm sure there's a telephone around here somewhere."

It took them another thirty minutes to get Petunia set up in the Hufflepuff dormitory. She protested the entire way. But soon the sights of the many moving staircases, the talking portraits and the numerous ghosts floating around silenced her. When the Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, welcomed her to Hufflepuff, she paled and looked ready to faint. Sirius and Remus left her sitting on a bed with several other Squib women in a room on the ground floor. Sirius was rather amused to note that she looked like a fish out of water.

"Remind me to tell the first years to practice their spells on that woman," Sirius grumbled as he and Remus headed back to the main castle.

"Forget the first years, let's tell the seventh years," Remus suggested. They both grinned at the thought. "I don't imagine that the Dursleys will have an easy time of it if word gets out how they treated Harry all these years. I would imagine the Winter Land people would take it quite personally."

"I imagine a lot of people will take it quite personally," Sirius agreed. He and Remus might be newly proclaimed upstanding citizens of the Wizarding World, but they were both still Marauders at heart. Nothing was going to change that.

"Why don't I go check in with Dumbledore while you see to Harry," Remus offered. "And make certain that Severus has gotten some sleep." Sirius nodded in agreement and they headed off in separate directions.

When Sirius reentered the Infirmary, he paused to check in with Madame Pomfrey first. She was running around the room, frantically trying to maintain some semblance of order over her ward despite the people popping into the place every few moments. The beds were all quickly filling up and people were being directed toward the temporary wards in other parts of the castle.

Nonetheless, Poppy took a moment to speak with him, waving him into her office and shutting the door for privacy. The look she gave him was not encouraging. "Has his condition worsened?" he demanded, a spark of fear burning in his heart. He couldn't bear it if anything happened to Harry.

"Not exactly," she told him with a shake of her head. "I've had several colleagues look him over while you were gone. We're certain now that his brain is still functional -- but his consciousness is no longer present."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked in horror. It didn't sound good.

"We think it's a form of Dreamwalking or Astral Projection. He's sent his mind someplace else; that's why his brain patterns are so odd. And unfortunately wherever he is, he appears to be in some sort of distress -- as if he is suffering very violent nightmares. It's altering his blood chemistry -- there's a rise in adrenaline and other chemicals in his body. Since there is no way to wake him up, we're having to filter his blood -- even in this short time the chemicals were reaching dangerous levels."

Sirius' mind reeled with the information. He didn't know much about Dreamwalking, though he had a distant uncle who'd apparently been an expert on the subject and often gave his enemies very severe nightmares. "You remain tied to your magical core when you Dreamwalk," Sirius stated, trying to pull up all the information about the subject buried in his memory. It had been twenty years since he'd read anything about it. "That's how you find your way back to your body -- you follow the connection to your magical core. If he's Dreamwalking, why hasn't he followed the connection back?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head helplessly. "We have a dozen different theories about that. It is entirely possible that whatever he's doing -- he's not done, and he simply hasn't tried to come back yet," she explained.

"You think that's the most likely?" he asked hopefully. Harry would return as soon as he was done with. . .well, he had no idea what he was doing, but hopefully he would be finished soon.

But sadly, the Healer shook her head. "We think it is far more likely that he simply can't find his way back -- that he's lost his way. We are not certain he is connected to his magical core any longer -- he drained it completely when he cast his spell. And then we believe he abandoned it and sought out another power source -- one capable of doing what needed to be done. Albus has implied that Harry has the ability to see things that are hidden, energies that the rest of us can't see or use. We think that is why Harry's magical signature is so strange -- he abandoned his own magical core and pushed his mind into the earth's magical core. We think he has become lost within it, lost deep within the earth."

Sirius stared at her in disbelief. A part of him wanted to deny that Harry would ever be capable of doing such a thing -- that anyone would be capable of it. But then again, this was Harry they were talking about. He regularly did the impossible. But the idea that this time the impossible task he had succeeded at might also spell the end for him -- it was unbearable. "But there must be a way to help him -- to call to him!" Sirius insisted. "To show him the way back!"

"That's what we're looking into," she assured him. She motioned to the large stack of books behind her on her desk. "I'm going through all the books on the subject here at Hogwarts and we have people at St. Mungos researching it as well. Sadly, the obvious solution is not a possibility so we're searching for some alternative means."

The obvious solution . . . Sirius frowned in confusion until her implication finally sunk in. Then he paled and felt his whole body grow cold with shock. Oh, god. . . the obvious solution.

"Does Severus know all this?" he asked, a sick emptiness gnawing at his belly.

Poppy nodded. "He hasn't left Harry's side. I can't imagine what he's feeling right now. He's only ever wanted what's best for Harry."

Needing to see his godson for himself, Sirius thanked her and then headed back out to the main ward. As he approached the door to Harry's private chambers, the guards watching it nodded to him -- he recognized two of them from his stay in the Winter Lands. One of them grabbed the door handle and pulled it open for him as he approached, letting him pass with a respectful gesture. Sirius smiled gratefully. Once inside, and the door firmly closed behind him, he paused to take in the sight before him.

Beneath the starch, white linen sheets of the hospital bed, Harry was lying unmoving, his skin unnaturally pale. On his left hand he wore what looked like a bright red glove. Sirius was familiar enough with the bizarre medical devices of the Wizarding World to know that it was in fact a blood cleaning device. Through the fingers of the glove, Harry's blood would be filtered and cleaned before reentering his body. Its presence brought home to Sirius the dangerous nature of Harry's condition -- the chemical changes in the young man's body were potentially life threatening.

Seated on the far side of Harry's bed was an exhausted looking Severus Snape. The dark-haired man was holding on to Harry's other hand, gently stroking it with long, elegant fingers. Severus' gaze was fixed on Harry's face. He gave no indication that he was even aware that Sirius had entered the room.

A wave of guilt washed through Sirius at the sight -- one that was a long time in coming. He stood there, unable to move, unable to speak as he thought of all the things that had brought them to this moment. There was blame and guilt and anger and rage -- his eyes moved to his beloved godson. The obvious solution . . .how much blame for Harry's current predicament could be laid upon his shoulders? How much at fault was he for the way things currently stood?

He looked back at Severus -- had it even occurred to the man to blame him for this? He rather suspected it had not -- Slytherins in general never really understood Gryffindors. They had no idea how devious they could be when they wanted to be -- or how vindictive. They probably ought to know better by now -- especially after Charlie's rather masterful manipulation of the Malfoys. But then again, that was their greatest failing -- they always underestimated the Gryffindors.

'And you always demonize the Slytherins', he told himself, knowing it was true. He believed them incapable of the nobler emotions such as love, friendship, loyalty, courage. And yet he'd seen ample proof they possessed all of them in spades over the last few weeks. He knew Severus loved Harry. It was written in every stress-ridden line of the man's body. Hell, he'd known Severus loved Harry ever since that boat crossing to the Winter Lands all those months ago. Severus had clutched Harry's cloak that night the same way he was now clutching at the boy's hand. Desperately. Needing some connection to the boy who was lost. Sirius felt tears pricking his eyes and he fought to keep them from falling. This wasn't fair.

"Poppy says he's having nightmares." The sound of Severus' voice startled Sirius as he realized that the man was indeed aware that he was present. He moved quietly toward the chair across from Severus and sat down. He said nothing and Severus continued, never looking away from Harry's face. "She said that wherever he is, he's frightened, in pain." There was a harsh quality to Severus' voice that only a few weeks ago Sirius would have mistaken for indifference. He knew better now. The idea that Harry was hurting was killing Severus. "I promised him I would wake him when he had nightmares. I promised. I tried to reach him," Severus told him. "With Legilimency. . .but his mind is empty. There's nothing to grasp onto. He can't hear me. Can't feel me."

A sharp spike of pain squeezed Sirius' chest. Of course Harry couldn't feel him. Not the way Sirius could feel Remus, certainly. If Sirius pushed all the way down to the center of his magical core he'd find Remus Lupin, just like Remus would find him at the center of his own. They were bound together, inseparable even by distance. But not Harry. Harry was alone. Harry was sixteen years old and was supposed to be alone -- because his life was meant to be his own. He was meant to live free, make his own decisions, love whomever he wanted, marry whomever he wanted when he was ready. He wasn't supposed to be forced into a marriage he didn't want, with someone he didn't like, because a group of manipulative bastards couldn't leave him alone.

But then Sirius was biased -- and his own ignorant prejudices rose up en masse to slap him in the face. Severus Snape loved Harry, and Harry couldn't hear him. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, briefly touching his own connection with Remus for comfort. How utterly alone Severus must be feeling right now.

"Why didn't you ever tell me what happened to my brother?" Sirius asked. He hadn't meant to say anything -- certainly his brother Regulus was the farthest thing from his mind. But the moment it was out of his mouth he decided that now was as good a time as any to speak of it. If nothing else, Severus deserved to know why things were so strained between them.

Severus looked up, confusion in his eyes as he stared at Sirius across the width of Harry's bed. "What?"

"Regulus," Sirius said. "Why didn't you ever tell me what really happened to him? I couldn't really figure that out. You hated me back then."

"How. . .?" Severus asked before breaking off. His face was drawn, and pale.

Sirius knew what he was asking. "Narcissa," he explained. "Right after Harry cleared my name, I got a letter from her. She always was a vindictive bitch. She knew I'd change my Conscriptus so that I could marry Remus. She told me about the. . .Troll." His voice broke for a moment -- he'd had almost two weeks to process the news, but even still the very thought turned his stomach. "She wanted to draw a comparison between me and Remus." He would never forgive Narcissa for that -- comparing his beautiful, gentle Remus to a Troll.

Severus blinked at him and then looked away as if unable to find any words to say. Sirius didn't blame him -- what did you say to something like that? 'I'm sorry your brother got himself buggered to death by a Troll. . .' words just didn't seem adequate.

"I remember Albus telling me about his death," Sirius continued, thinking back to those dark days just before James and Lily had died. "He said that his contact with the Death Eaters had informed him that Regulus had tried to leave the Dark Lord's service -- that he wanted to join our side. But the Dark Lord found out and killed him. Of course at the time I didn't know that you were the contact, the spy, but I believed the story. I wanted to believe that Regulus had redeemed himself -- that he'd tried to free himself."

Sirius shook his head at his own foolishness -- even after everything he'd seen he'd still had faith that Regulus would change one day. "Why did you lie? Why didn't you just tell Albus the truth?" That was the one part of the story Sirius didn't really understand. Severus had hated him back then -- and yet for whatever reason he'd passed up the opportunity to rub salt in an old wound -- even from a distance.

"He was dead," Severus said simply. "Knowing the truth wouldn't have changed that."

It wasn't really an answer, but it was as much an answer as Severus was going give him. Still it told him enough -- his own sense of shame increased. "You spared my feelings," he stated flatly, as if proclaiming something momentous. For them it probably was.

Severus just looked away. "I have three brothers of my own," he reminded him.

"I blamed you for his death."

Severus looked up in shock at that. "What?"

Sirius stared at him, thinking of all the years of violence and hatred that stood between them. He knew if nothing else, he owed this man an explanation, because he saw now that Severus had never done anything to deserve it.

"Did you know that Regulus was addicted to Enhancers?" he asked. He saw the flare of shock that moved through Severus' eyes; the man hadn't known. Sirius shook his head in disbelief at his own ignorance. All these years and Severus had never even known.

"Why would Regulus Black need Enhancers?" Severus demanded.

Why indeed? Regulus had been beautiful. If there was one thing he would never have needed it was magical beauty Enhancer. Such potions were typically only taken by the desperate. The side effects of such Enhancers were too severe for average Wizards and Witches to risk. Even the most innocuous tended to be addictive, and the ones Regulus had taken were far from innocuous. And ironically he had never needed any of them.

"It was Bella," Sirius explained. She had not been ugly either -- their generation of the Blacks had been born beautiful. But Bellatrix had been afflicted with the worst of the Black family's madness. And she had been vain beyond comprehension. Couple that with jealousy and she'd been ripe for the addiction. "She was in love with Lucius Malfoy," Sirius explained. "But Lucius only had eyes for Narcissa. The more Narcissa ignored him, the more he wanted her. And the more Bella wanted him. She started using the Enhancers to attract his attention -- not that it ever did her any good."

Sirius frowned at the memories. Severus needed to hear this -- but it certainly aired a lot of the sordid details of the Black family. Still, what did it matter these days? Bella was a homicidal psychopath, and Regulus was dead.

"The summer before our sixth year my mother heard word that Bella's behavior was growing. . .questionable. Since the family was currently negotiating with Rodolphus Lestrange for her hand in marriage, Mother thought it would be a good idea to keep her isolated from society -- away from men. She sent Bella and the rest of us to stay at one of our more isolated estates with Bella's parents to watch over us. Did you ever meet my Uncle Cygnus or Aunt Druella?"

Severus shook his head in response. Both of them had been affiliated with Voldemort, but had never been very social.

"Uncle Cygnus was. . .a typical Black, and Aunt Druella was even worse. She made Bellatrix look sweet and gentle," Sirius told him. He saw Severus' eyes widen at that. Making Bellatrix look good was no mean feat. "So there we all were -- trapped alone for the summer in a drafty old castle. Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella avoided us. Narcissa and Andromeda locked themselves in their rooms and ignored us. I was busy throwing temper fits because I couldn't go stay with James for the summer. And Bella was left with only Reg's company -- he was twelve. You know the main side effects of Enhancers?"

Severus just stared at him in disbelief. "She didn't!"

"She was taking some really strong stuff. It left her with such a voracious sexual appetite that within days she was desperate. She hit on me first, but I turned her down flat. It never occurred to me who she'd turn to next. Of course she had to first get Regulus addicted to the Enhancers before he gave in to her demands. After that he was so desperate himself that he didn't care who he was with," Sirius shuddered with the memory. "I found out about it one night when I walked in on them. Of course by then, twelve-year-old Regulus was not enough for Bella so she'd somehow convinced Uncle Cygnus to join them. I walked in on the three of them. When I saw what Bella and Cygnus were doing to Reg I went through the roof. I decided to go straight to Aunt Druella -- which was quite a threat. I don't know what she would have done to Bella, but she would have tortured and murdered Cygnus for his part in the affair."

"What happened?" Severus asked, apparently fascinated in spite of himself.

Sirius shrugged. "Bella stopped me. I'm afraid this is where you come into this sick little story."

"Me?" Severus demanded, looking utterly baffled. It was obvious by his reaction that he knew nothing of any of this history. Sirius felt a self-mocking smile cross his lips.

"Bella told me about the Enhancers -- that both she and Reg were addicted to them and couldn't help themselves," Sirius explained. "Then she told me where she got the Enhancers. How the resident Potion's Expert of Slytherin House had made them and gotten them addicted to them. She convinced me that all of it was your fault. I didn't like you prior to that moment, but that made me truly hate you. For the first time in my life I lived up to the name of Black -- I went insane with hatred for you."

Severus stared at him in shock. "That's why you tried to kill me that year when you sent me to the Shrieking Shack!"

Sirius laughed mirthlessly at that. "Severus, I tried to kill you ten times that year. The Shrieking Shack incident was merely the last and the most successful in a long line of attempts."

"What?" He could tell Severus was thinking back on that year trying to figure out when the other attempts might have been.

"Did you ever wonder why my friends forgave me so quickly for what I had done?" Sirius asked him. It had to have confused him. "If I had been successful, Remus would have paid the price. As it was, I betrayed his secret. He would have been euthanized if it hadn't been for Dumbledore. And yet he and James both forgave me almost immediately."

"I just assumed they hated me just as much," Severus admitted.

But Sirius shook his head. "For them it was just a typical boyhood rivalry. I ran away from home later that summer and went to live with James. James and Remus both knew something was wrong with me then. When I said I went insane I meant that literally -- and having spent numerous years in Azkaban I know what insanity feels like. I tried to kill you over and over again that year -- my plans became increasingly elaborate and increasingly crazy. James and Remus spent the entire year chasing after me and stopping me, thwarting every attempt. They were terrified of going to Dumbledore for help because they thought I'd be expelled. That last attempt when I nearly succeeded -- I realized immediately what I had almost done to Remus. That snapped me out of it, woke me up. James and Remus were so relieved I had finally come to my senses that they both forgave me for what I had tried to do. I still hated you, but I also figured that Bella and Reg could have said no."

"That's why you hated me?" Severus asked, looking stunned by the news.

Sirius nodded. "And when Regulus died, I convinced myself that you had killed him. I imagined that he had finally stood up to you and had tried to get away from the Dark Lord and the Enhancers. And you had killed him."

"I see," Severus sank back into his chair. "That is your opinion of me? No wonder you were so enraged when I married Harry."

No wonder, Sirius agreed silently -- even though by then Remus and Albus had both tried repeatedly to convince him that he'd been wrong about Severus. He'd never really been able to let go of the belief that Reg was gone because of Snape. Narcissa's letter had make a lot of things clear to him -- especially his own failings when it came to judging certain people.

"Why are you telling me all this now?" Severus asked. The man looked even paler now than he had before this conversation started as if Sirius' words had taken some last spark of life from him.

"Guilt," Sirius said simply. "Because I know I was wrong." It felt strange after all these years to admit to that.

Severus shook his head bleakly at that. "Don't bother. It's all ancient history to me. I don't care any more."

Sirius didn't really believe that. There were too many incidents recently that led him to believe otherwise -- he couldn't help but remember the look of shock and relief that had flashed momentarily through the man's eyes when Sirius had agreed to stand as his second during the duels in the Ministry of Magic.

"But it isn't ancient history, Severus," Sirius told him. "It's still there. And now it's affected Harry."

Severus' head snapped up at that, and he stared at him, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Sirius swallowed uncomfortably. "I've been _sabotaging_ your relationship," he said simply. "It wasn't hard -- just a comment here and there, a joke told in passing. . . just enough for Harry to know that I disapproved of you, that your relationship was meant to be platonic, that anything more was wrong."

Something hard and painful glittered in Severus' eyes. He sat there frozen, as if unable to respond to Sirius' words.

Sirius' gaze flickered toward Harry and he noticed how utterly still his godson was. He felt a warm tear slip down one of his cheeks. "I know you love him," he told the silent man across from him. "I can't help think that if I had just kept silent, you might be able to wake him up right now." The obvious solution, Poppy had called it. "You might now be bonded to him -- you'd have his magical signature inside of you. He'd be able to hear you, feel you, no matter where he is." More tears escaped his eyes. Poppy said Harry was suffering, trapped somewhere alone in the dark, dreaming about dreadful things.

He heard a gasp across from him, and he frowned at Severus through his tears. The man looked stunned.

"Black, you're a genius!"

For a moment Severus' words didn't register, and then Sirius replayed them over in his head. He stared in shock as Severus leaped to his feet and began fumbling with something at his neck.

"What?" he asked in confusion. "What do you mean? You're not bonded to him . . .are you?"

"No," Severus shook his head and then pulled a chain from around his neck. Dangling at the end of the chain was an emerald green stone lined with blood red veins. "I'm not, but this is!" He held the stone up in front of him.

Sirius recognized the size and shape of the stone well enough -- they were common enough amongst the older students at Hogwarts. He'd made one himself when he was in sixth year. "A Heartstone?" he asked in confusion. "But Heartstones can't do anything!"

"Not just any Heartstone," Severus told him, excitement lighting up his face. "Harry's Heartstone -- and the most powerful bloody Heartstone ever made! If this can't wake him up, nothing will! Stay here with him. I'm going to go get Dumbledore and Pomfrey."

Sirius stared in shock as the man strode swiftly out the door, moving as if given a new purpose in life. Numb and wrung out, Sirius turned to stare at his unmoving godson. "A green and red Heartstone?" he asked him. "You trying to tell me something about Gryffindors and Slytherins?" He smiled and brushed the tears from his cheeks before leaning down and kissing his godson on the forehead.

"I still don't think you should have sex until you're twenty-five," he told him. "But if he really can wake you up, I'll keep my mouth shut. I guess he's not bad. . .for a Slytherin."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, I managed to survive my family's visit -- now hopefully I can get back to some writing. I don't know if I can still manage the once a week updates but I'll keep trying my hardest. Sadly my workload has recently increased drastically and I've been rather exhausted lately.

Thank you to everyone who told me that I had been nominated for the Quills to Parchment award -- I would have missed it entirely if it hadn't been for all the reviewers!

Lot's of people have suggested all sorts of solutions for the Muggles -- the most commonly suggested is Draught of the Living Death -- which is a great idea. The problem is that Potion (I looked it up) has magical ingredients in it -- I don't imagine it would be kept around in large quantities, and is likely expensive to make. And like Polyjuice, it might take a great deal of time to make -- it is supposedly one of the more advanced potions around so I suspect it would be hard to come by.

As for this chapter -- I realize that not much action happens here, but I've been needing to write this scene between Severus and Sirius for a long time (not to mention it finally reminds Severus of the Heartstone he's been wearing around his neck this whole time!). It was supposed to be a mirror of the conversation in "Chapter 12 Placing Blame". Hopefully it will also explain why Sirius has been behaving so differently these last few days -- he's finally let go of his irrational (and unfounded) hatred. (And really -- there needed to be a good reason for Regulus' behavior!!).

And yes, I'm certain Severus will have a few words to say to Petunia -- she isn't going to react well to Harry's marriage. All the Muggles will have some social adjustments to go through in the days ahead.

Also -- I just realized that FF has removed a lot of my horizontal rule scene break lines -- which I find irritating. Sorry about that!!

And I'm aware that I'm a few years off on the ages of Bellatrix and Regulus. I think Bella is actually 9 years older that Sirius -- but for this timeline to work she needed to be closer in age to him. And Regulus needed to be slightly younger than he really is.


End file.
